Will We Meet Again?
by AsteriaStone
Summary: "If you ever find yourself in the wrong story, leave." It wasn't that easy. It never could be - could it? Fiona finds herself numb as she lives life on a broken record. That is until a man walks into her life and claims to know things about her that he couldn't possibly know, and before she knows it, she gets thrown into the life of an all too familiar time-lord. OC/1-13 Doctors.
1. Chapter 1 - Will We Meet Again?

**Will We Meet Again?**

* * *

" _If you ever find yourself in the wrong story, leave." It wasn't that easy. It never could be. Could it? Fiona finds herself numb as she lives life on a broken record. That is until a man walks into her life and claims to know things about her that he couldn't possibly know, and before she knows it, she gets thrown into the life of an all too familiar time-lord._

 _Inspired by "Once Upon Another Time" by Artemis Sherwood. Rated T. Might go up to M. Doctor/OC. 1/13 Doctors._

* * *

 **A/N: Hello Readers! Welcome to my first story here. I was inspired to write a story inspired by Artemis Sherwood's "Once Upon Another Time" because I absolutely adore the idea of having an original character jump through the Doctors life, being a constant companion. I very much loved her story and was devastated when it was discontinued. Although this story will in no way be a copy and I hope to make the chapters very different as well as the personality of my OC.**

 **I will mainly be focusing on 'The Revival Series of Doctor Who' with Doctors 9-12 for now because I've only just recently started 'Classic Who' and hope to include more of that once I'm more comfortable with the setting and the characters. So without further ado, enjoy the story!**

 **\- Also, I'm currently in the middle of editing chapters to fix up shoddy writing.**

* * *

 ** _Entry no. 1_**

 _Longing_

 _(n.) A strong feeling of need or desire for someone or something. An unfulfilled desire, even if it is a need you do not yet know._

* * *

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

I flinched, every muscle in my body jolting as I was torn from the story in my head.

A young waitress, not much older than I was, was stood a little ways away, watching me with scrutinizing eyes. She gave me this funny look, her gaze drifting to her fellow employees, as though they were all mentally taking bets on whether I'd get up and jump her for even trying to talk to me.

 _Oh? What's this?_

 _Another person anxiously standing a good deal away from me? Well just call me Britney, because oops I did it again - ugh, no. That was **horrible**. An absolute low-point in the pinnacle of my job as a human being._

I sighed internally _._

It seemed as though I had zoned out, for like the _fifth-hundredth_ time this week.

My brain felt like a hive with a billion empty thoughts buzzing around like bees. It was like I couldn't concentrate on a single thing lately.

From above, the gulls were mocking me with their ability to fly, filling the air with the beating of wings and bird cries. The scent of sea salt and coffee were strong in the air.

My eyes strayed back to the concrete floor – back to the increasingly annoyed looking lady. A nasty scowl of irritation was messing up her pretty features, pink lips down-turned and slim eyebrows arched, like she'd rather be doing anything else.

 _Wow, I think I'd rather be pecked to death by a flock of seagulls than deal with this chick._

"I'm fine, _sorry_ ," I coughed a response, my eyes shifting all over the place - as if I could literally find an answer in front of me that didn't make me look bat-shit crazy. I guessed that her manager had probably forced her to go talk to the creepy teen that had sat scarily still ever since she'd sat down.

My fingers anxiously toyed with the yellowed paper of the book I'd been neglecting for the past half hour, trying to read but just not being able to. I had only been fifteen minutes into the book when my mind decided to make a run for it – refusing to digest another paragraph. Instead, I had delved into spinning up a tale about misunderstood dragons, strong princesses, bizarre wizards and knights who really _just_ wanted to sleep with all the other knights.

The usual really.

It's not like I was missing out on much with this book anyway – the cover gave innocent me-from-this-morning an idea of a spooky thriller of sorts. I was a sucker for a scare, after all. But alas, I was betrayed by the deceit of phony advertising. It was all a ruse to surround some bleeding-heart romance – where it's up to you to decide if there really are any ghosties, or if it's all in their heads.

I didn't typically mind that sort of thing, as long as the story said something worthwhile. Romance could do that, I'm sure? I mean, I'd yet to see it, but surely?

 _But with this book, let me tell you honey –_ it's not like I had the experience to tell what makes a realistic love story, yes boohoo me, but I was pretty damn sure that loud declarations of love by page 5 didn't make for good literature in any sane mans mind.

It made sense for me I suppose, I'd never been one to easily believe in anything unless it took me by the shoulders and shook me to prove its existence – that's why the fictional setting of a haunted house was so much more fun to read about than actually expecting to see a ghost.

Love, to me, fell along similar lines. I had never before felt the punch of it, the kind that every author and their mum wrote about. Therefore, it was just as much a reality as the unicorn-squid hybrid I had for an imaginary best friend when I was 10.

I heaved a heavy sigh as the waitress from earlier waded over to some other tables – not looking half as convinced of my mental sanity as I would have wished.

I couldn't blame her, to be honest, I was on the same boat. If I saw someone sitting by themselves, staring intensely at their cup of coffee for like an hour, I'd be creeped out too.

I was more than annoyed with myself at this point.

It wasn't like me to lose myself like this – not giving the slightest bit of attention to the world around me. I always paid due attention to my surroundings – to the smallest things.

As one normally learnt to do when they didn't have as many people to rely on. But also, on a more positive note, when you realised that some small things can be more important than the grand commotion of things. Like tiny flowers growing out the cracks in a sidewalk.

I tsked.

It was like there was a change in the air.

Something just didn't _feel_ right.

Maybe it was the caffeine, sending me into some weird psychosis.

I closed my eyes and mentally berated myself for how odd I was being. I turned back to the sky, returning to the fantasy story I was planning out in my head – keeping a subconscious eye on the way my face looked as I did, so as to not look vaguely murderous as I disappeared.

 _Stories and Music._

They had always served as my place of sanctuary. From before I could even remember - I could lose myself in thoughts of them for hours on end.

'Adventure' was a word I liked very much, after all.

 _Adventure_. Ha. _As if you even knew the meaning of the word, you phony_. I hardly did anything exciting on my own.

The only thing I knew about it was an idea. A construct. A cheap dollar store discount version of the real deal.

I knew what that felt like, that rush of freedom that left you feeling oh so alive, but only when I could pour over page after page – transport myself to another reality. It wasn't much, because at the end, a small part of you is always left wanting a tiny bit more, but it was enough for me.

And yet still, like a mooning idiot, I longed.

Wendy Darling, Alice Liddel, Dorothy Gale – Girls turned heroine's – who were all given a taste of what true adventure was. They were ordinary too once, but then off they went to be a part of something bigger.

All I could do was follow them with a yearning heart.

No less than two minutes later, the soft buzzing of my phone forced me to abandon the journey I was going to set sail on in my head.

I groaned internally, checking to see who'd messaged me. My eyes roved over the words – the feeling of freedom being replaced by the sensation of a dull pain, beginning to flare in my chest.

I was needed back home.

I grimaced, ignoring the pain and ignoring the message.

 _She needed to learn how to pick up after herself_ , I agreed to myself solemnly. _And plus, I had places to be._

I warded away any lingering thoughts of _her_ , and gathered up my things once I realised my lunch break was over. I couldn't help but snort when I saw the worker behind the register literally _sigh_ in relief as I got up.

And here I thought we had really hit it off.

There wasn't a doubt in my mind that I was anything other than the talk of the town around these parts – well, talk of the café really. I couldn't blame them, though. Someone like me - dressed head-to-toe in black, with red, splotchy eyes from a full night's worth of reading and giving the appearance of an actual serial-killer – probably wouldn't be the 'best image' for promoting their shop.

I let my own sigh fall as I neared the door, trying to ignore the itchy feeling in my mouth from that coffee from before. It was somewhat burnt.

 _Well, that was nice and all but I don't think coffee shops are my 'thing' – I_ considered with one boot out the door.

* * *

Wake up. Get ready. Go to work. Come home. Eat. Waste my time staring at a screen. Sleep.

That was the vicious cycle that my life had stayed stuck in for almost a year now – I was living like a goddamn 'Sims' character. Ever since we scrounged together enough money to move all the way out to the astonishingly ordinary suburbs of San Francisco.

I suppose I just didn't really fit in.

It was absurd really. I had just turned eighteen. I was an _adult_ now. _Well,_ adult-ish.

Regardless, I was at that age where I was supposed to be living it up – going to parties, making out with other party-goers, and doing crazy reckless, life-endangering things. _Whatever it was that the youths do._

And yet here I was. Working a nine-to-five job, and with no friends.

It seemed so weird to think about now, the reasons why I ended up the way I did – almost like I was thinking about the life of someone else entirely. All my life I'd been sheltered from the rest of the world, growing up surrounded by the same people I'd known since I was born. We weren't the most well-off family back home - having to live on scraps - but it never bothered me all that much.

I was a kid, and that's all I had to be.

And then we moved. It felt like an understatement to say that my tiny child brain was chewed up and tossed around by the absolutely staggering difference compared to where I lived before. Pakistan, a land _literally_ set 10 years in the past – where I still owned a VCR, watched MTV, and listened to music on tapes. It was like a sharp slap to the face - moving somewhere so foreign.

But by now, having lived in the states for almost two years, I was more accustomed to life in America. It took quite a lot of getting used to, but I'd always been good at acclimating.

 _I guess I just wished that I'd appreciated life when it was simpler._

I stepped up to a set of familiar tiles outlining a stretch of pavement.

The door cranked open after a bit of wiggling and after I used my key – and, like wildfire, the sweet, familiar musk of books spread to my nose.

A little smile played on my lips, just as it always did when my eyes roved past shelf after shelf.

The shop was getting a bit small for all the books I managed to acquire – but it was mine, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. It was an amazing set-up I coped with creating – People would come and drop off books they no longer needed and would get payed a small bit for each one, and then they'd get sold for more based on quality.

It was San-Francisco and people were moving in and out all the time, it was no wonder my little corner-stop shop managed to do so well.

The bookshelves seemed like they would collapse any moment under the pressure of the numerous books and files stuffed into them. Each one with a label, organised in neat rows on the shelves, after many late nights spent here doing just that. All four walls of the room were covered with shelves and filing cabinets, leaving only a small gap in the middle for the door. I ran the tips of my fingers over the bound leather cases, each one either cracked and dry with age, or crisp and new - sold to me due to the regret of a hasty purchase.

The thin volumes smelt faintly of pipe tobacco and dust from previous owners - or maybe that's just what the paper pages grew to smell like with age.

I yawned, enjoying the comfort of it all before realising I'd just proven my own point. Painfully standard job with no room for anything exciting to ever happen, check – you'll never predict what comes next. Keep this up and you'll be stuck here for the rest of your life, one part of me tried to argue.

I frowned at my stupidly persistent brain, ready to tell it to stop being so mean. That was the plan, as I reached my counter and set my bag down. I only stopped when I heard something _weird_ , to say the least.

Like awfully weird. Like a film editor had just added in a real life sound-bite to a situation that was way too domestic.

It was a sort of faint _buzzing_?

What's weirder was that it was _right_ outside the door to the shop.

It was a quite morning, with the only other sounds in the room being the steady clicking of my shoes, and the creaking of wooden floorboards. So you can really see what had my gander.

With an eyebrow quirked with interest, I waded back to the closed door – absentmindedly turning the sign from 'closed' to 'open'.

The sound was louder near the front and I could make it out to be a distinct metallic hum – like something straight out of Star Trek.

 _Curiouser and curiouser._

There was a faint voice at the back of my head that was telling me I had heard the noise before, but I soon dismissed it, creaking open the door. The light summer breeze tickled my nose as I poked my head outside.

 _No one and nothing odd in sight_ – _Hm, I don't know what I was expecting._

With a small smidge of disappointment, I was about to head back in when I saw that the hanging sign to the shop was all messed up. Groaning in annoyance I extracted myself from the shop and onto the road.

 _Weird, it never did that on its own_ – I mused, thinking over the situation and marking it down as strange. They were two thick knotted ropes that held the sign, hardly ever moving.

What made it especially strange was that the wind was soft and gentle today, like a feathery kiss – making me rule the weather out as an unlikely suspect.

I had just gotten started on untying the knot in the rope that held the sign, when I was abruptly pulled out of my task – knocking shoulders with a man that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

A tall figure, dressed too weirdly for the summer, was all I saw before I turned around.

"Watch where you're going, buddy," I grimaced, thrown by the harshness of the bump.

Before the first words found their target though, the flaps of what could've been a tan trench coat had already disappeared. I was no less than stunned silent by the sudden disappearance of the mystery man, turning my head around frantically to find him, but only seeing empty streets.

"Okay, definitely strange," I mumbled under my breath, weirdly freaked out. He would have had to have bolted to have gotten out of sight so fast, but even then, I wasn't denying the absurdity of it.

My heartbeat had picked up greatly and my vision seemed to blur for a second before I placed my hand over my chest to calm myself down. In my shock, I found myself chuckling lightly.

"Oh my god, I'm so soft. Grow a pair, Fiona," I whispered under my breath, my eyes darting around to see if anyone had caught the embarrassing display.

I could be so feint-hearted at times, it baffled me. A random passerby knocked into me, _so what?_

I remembered all the times my cousins would play pranks on me as a child, never letting me in on their games all because I was the way I was. Soft, small and weak.

I'd been for as long as I could remember. But it wasn't like that was something to be ashamed of. A bitter kind of anger started flowing through me at the thought.

When did I just start _accepting_ that I was feeble? They did say the shorter you were, the closer you were to hell too, right? I should radiate power with a single bat of my lashes.

I was so sick of it – I didn't want to be soft anymore. I wanted to be bloody knuckles and glass shards. I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me.

With a new sense of empowerment, I rushed back inside – determined to prove something.

* * *

It was getting close to midday and all the sense of motivation I had seemed to seep out and dissipate when the last person of the day walked out.

My sigh unfurled like a steam-train that had been shut off after a hard day's work, virtually filling the emptiness of the shop as I crumpled to a heap on the register.

"I could do it, I could fall asleep right now," I tempted myself, wanting nothing more than to just fall into a two week coma. "Though, best not."

I dragged myself up - rubbing the sleep dust from my eyes.

I _needed_ to get to the front door, almost forgetting that first priority was to turn the sign to 'close' before I could relax. How could I have been so foolish to have forgotten – this was a matter of life and death.

That's when a soft jingle made me grimace.

I was just a foot away from the sign with my arm stretched out, and someone had to come in _now_?

 _"Sorry, were you about to close?"_

It was a woman, quite a bit taller than me. She was English too, I noted – quite odd to see around here, but I didn't take it into mind.

She had a crudely cut mop of pale blonde hair that seemed to stick out and trail like the flickers of a flame. The roots of her hair matched the light hazel of her eyes as she fixed me with a downright perturbing stare. She was looking at me so deeply, I was scared I'd have to dash back and get the can of pepper spray hidden in my purse. You know, you can never tell with people these days – and I'd rather be safe than sorry.

I smiled at her apologetically, but there was no doubt she didn't see the agonising pain in my eyes.

This shop was open _eight_ freaking hours a day, and she had to choose **_now_**?

"Yeah I was, but no worries," I grinned at her weakly, moving back to stand behind the register – taking on the accepted standard of discourse you do to make sure customers don't sue you. "You're good if you don't take too long."

She flashed me a confident smile, almost as though she were accepting a challenge.

I watched her as she moved over to a shelf as she began roving through book titles. There was something about her that seemed a bit off, if I was being honest. Something a tiny bit unusual, in an impossibly intriguing way.

She looked like if someone from the future and a pirate had a baby - with her long flowing coat, boots, billowy trousers - and to top it all off, rainbow suspenders.

Shaking my head, I decided to leave her be – we had plenty of interesting characters come around in the past – but before I could even begin starting to dawdle and mess about, I heard the thump of a singular book being placed on the counter.

 _There's no way_...

I looked up and was face-to-face with the cockiest smirk I had ever seen.

All I could do was stare gapingly at the woman. That was less than a minute – in a shop with like, a thousand books. Was she related to the Flash, or something?

Unless she already knew where the book she wanted was... But that would've been impossible, I would've remembered seeing someone like her.

Collecting myself, I gave her an apologetic smile and scooped up her book, ready to scan.

"' _Women in Science: 50 Fearless Pioneers Who Changed the World'_. That's quite the purchase," I said, smiling down at the book. It was in quite good condition for being in a second-hand shop. I couldn't understand though, the urgency with which she tore through the shop for this one particular book.

I looked back up at her through my eyelashes, "A fan of science?"

Her eyes met mine and she seemed slightly caught off-guard at the sound of my voice - like she didn't think I'd speak to her for whatever reason. Her expression changed to slightly flustered as she stuck her arms behind her back. Her voice was a soft drawl - my thoughts wondering if it was from the North - as she replied, " _Yes_ , I am a fan. I never thought I would've needed this particular book, though."

"Oh? And why's that?" I tilted my head at her – an action she seemed to catch on to and gawk at. The way she's looking at me, I could swear it was like she knew me – even though I couldn't recall a time when we'd have met. I held out her purchase to her, the book now being wrapped in brown parchment and placed in a bag.

Her smile that had settled into a calm one, abruptly changed back into a proud smirk as she fluttered her eyelashes.

"Because my dear, one day, I'm going to be in it. Thank you for the book."

And with that, she turned heel and began strutting to the exit. Before she left however, she turned at the door to look at me again. "By the way, don't think you've noticed - but there's something hanging from your pocket."

And with that, hilariously, she turned the door's sign to face 'closed' - leaving with the soft slamming of the door.

As she left, I was even more flabbergasted to find myself smiling a bit manically after her retreating form.

"My god, that woman was a bit of a whirlwind, wasn't she?" I asked the empty shop, roping myself in from the shock. I pawed at my aprons pocket before my pinky caught onto a small scroll of paper. "I swear to god, if this is her number..."

I unfurled the tiny sheet and wondered what it was in silent anticipation. However, the cheery mood seemed to almost get sucked out of the air as my eyes skimmed over the words.

' _Have your most prized possessions with you by eight tonight - only the things you love more than anything. They're the only things you'll need. Read this and trust me, Fio.'_

It was my hand-writing. My _exact_ hand-writing.

I didn't know how to react. My stomach twisted uncomfortably and I felt like gagging.

Only the people closest to me, like my mum and my brother, called me Fio. While that might've been a coincidence, the handwriting was way too similar to mine to be forged. Did that woman do this? No, she never got close enough to me to slip something in my pocket – and besides, I had my eyes on her the whole time she was in here.

 _Then where_ -

My mind flashed back to the incident outside the shop today. The man? Could he have? I never even caught what he looked like.

Regardless of _who_ it was, ' _what_ it meant' seemed like the better question. Was it a threat? It didn't feel like it though.

For the first time since I bought it, I felt weirdly out of place, alone in the confines of my shop. It was like the walls were closing in on me. Deciding, to just walk and ease my mind– I grabbed my bag and walked out the door, almost in a haze.

* * *

Walking down the busy city streets on my way home was always an excellent distraction when I needed it. The most interesting types of people, from all walks of life seemed to gravitate towards the streets lined with skyscrapers. Even at night, writers and artists were perched in their homey, rustic seats outside coffee shops, photographers and architects scaled the streets in search of interesting sites to scope out, even the dancers and musicians couldn't resist the urge to settle down on the edge of a sidewalk and hold a tiny concert, free of charge for the hundreds of people passing by.

But now, all I could see them as were threats.

My head was still spiralling from the note, but what was worse than the way I felt was that I didn't know if whoever wrote it was watching me or not. These things don't just happen, especially to me.

I took refuge on a bench that looked out over a tiny portion of the Pacific Ocean, while I kept scratching at theories to what the note meant. _It might just be a prank, but what would anyone gain from pranking me. **Thump-thump-thump-thump**_ **,** my heart was pounding in my ears.

I was starting to lose myself when a sweet melody tore through my headache.

" _You taught me the courage of stars before you left.  
How light carries on endlessly, even after death.  
With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite.  
How rare and beautiful it is to even exist."_

A piano and a violin, working together beautifully, intermingled like sheets of velvet.

The singer's voice was soft and fragile, like the most delicate kind of flower. It was almost other worldly.

In the span of a second, my attention was immediately captured and my stress rolled off in waves. It wasn't every day a song could feel so... specific. It was strange but it was like the song was meant for me – like I had listened to it in another life.

No, cease that thought, you idiot.

The last time I had checked, my name wasn't Truman and I couldn't remember ever living a perfect vanilla life in a fantasy land where all my dreams came true. There was no way in hell I deserved to feel as vulnerable as I did now, but for some reason I felt it. From somewhere, someone was watching me.

 _This was too bizarre._

Weirdly enough, no amount of twisting my head around corners could help me find where the music was coming from. It didn't have the scratchy, grainy quality of something coming from a radio, but it didn't feel as though it were coming from any particular direction either.

Like it was in my head.

 _Way too bizarre._

Maybe my lack of sleep was catching up to me.

I got up and went down the street at least ten times, but the lullaby never got any closer, so I ended up calling it a day to my search.

I dug myself closer into my coat as a chill racked my body. I was more confused than I was on edge now, but I just decided to make my way home.

I was mentally drained – paranoid yes, yet not ready to cower in a corner anymore.

* * *

Locking the frail-y built door behind me – I slid to the floor in dread.

 _There was no way this house could survive a break-in,_ I thought with my head in my hands.

It was a cheap, dingy little apartment – bigger in size than some but completely lacking on quality – the kind that you expected to find when you couldn't afford much.

I picked myself off the ground and began scaling the house, locking every door and window. Securing the lock on the kitchen window, I stopped to read a hastily written letter by the fridge – undeniably in my mother's handwriting.

' _I'm going out tonight, don't wait up.'_

My heart swelled painfully as I tried to avoid the uncomfortable tightening of my throat. My 'mission' was long forgotten as I began reading over the note again and again – almost expecting the words to change.

My brain instantly seized to function as I remembered.

In a fit where my limbs moved before my brain could process anything, I was in front of a child's door.

Pure fear seized my veins as I creaked the door open and saw my baby brother on the floor, completely enamoured with his crayons and a sheet of paper. My knees shook with relief as I went to sit in front on him. He looked up for a second and smiled, showing off his dimples, before returning to his sheet.

"She left you on your own, did she?" I asked with fake lightness, trying to make my voice as silly as possible.

He nodded his head lightly, obviously not understanding why I needed to know. I ruffled my fingers through his hair and pressed a soft kiss to his temple."Sorry, _Jugnu."_

She – my mother – hadn't always been like this. She was once the most radiant person I knew. Everything about her just glowed. I suppose the move hadn't just changed me.

I sighed, trying to focus solely on the crooked little cat my brother was drawing.

My brother – Jackson – was quite the artist for his age. I was sure he'd love to become one when he was older – Pictures spoke ten times as loudly compared to words, anyway. Jackson, though he could hear the softest noise from a mile away, couldn't speak. Couldn't or wouldn't, I didn't know. He was an insanely bright kid but ever since we moved - ever since then, he just _stopped_.

The kid had a lot of pressure put on him at school, which scared me because I couldn't be there for him. He was six now, and I just knew that I wouldn't be able to stand the day he lost the innocence in his eyes because someone bullied him or something.

"Hey bud, how would you feel about a sleep-over at Steven's house today?" I asked him gently. Steven was one of the next-door neighbour's kids, and the two boys got along quite nicely – which was truely a god-send for when I had to spend more time at the shop. And anyway – with that note I had gotten... I couldn't risk having him around if something _did_ happen.

He nodded excitedly, his hazel-y brown eyes glowing. I chuckled and patted down his blond mop of hair. He looked a lot more like our father than I did, at least, according to my mother he did, in the few times she'd mention it in passing. I couldn't remember much of my father before he left us – but from my mother's stories of him, he seemed like a good man once.

I grabbed Jackson and tossed him in the air above me – he was quite small and all too bright for his age, which was why I liked calling him ' _Jugnu'_ or _'Fire-fly'._ I mean, just the last week he'd finished looking over each page of this encyclopaedia he specially asked for, detailing the inner workings of a fish's anatomy, just so he could draw the fins right. It's not that he could understand the words, and he got bored of drawing fishes the day after, but I think I was safe to assume he had a persistently brilliant soul for his age.

He exploded in a fit of silent giggles as I carried him out the door, hastily having made a small backpack of stuff he'd need.

It was rare – the small happy moments we had with what baggage we both held. But whenever there were moments where I got to see him smile without a single shadow of sadness on his face – I'd cherish it for the rest of the week.

* * *

I couldn't help it.

I was getting paranoid about the time.

It was getting close to seven and I couldn't shake my need to keep peering over my shoulder in dread because I couldn't toss aside the notion that I was going to get kidnapped and shipped off to a circus half-way across the world as soon as the clock struck eight.

My brother was safe which took away at least ninety percent of the worry – but I still, could just not shake the worry away.

Maybe I could play a Kevin McAllister on whoever the schmuck was that wrote the note – so that I had some semblance of safety maybe. A pin or two on the stairs, a flamethrower at the door... wouldn't work, I realised, since I didn't really have stairs in this place, nor was I too keen on breaking any fire code violations. I was a good noodle after all, and safety was key.

I snorted to myself. Who was I kidding – I didn't have the smarts of some sadistic eight year old boy, nor the convenient writing chops that made him so good at messing with bandits. This was the alternate timeline where the kid actually gets got.

I sighed.

 _You know what, screw this._

I was getting way too stressed out over a complete hypothetical scenario that was more likely than anything – Just. A. Prank.

Frustrated with myself, I decided to take a shower to de-stress _._

 _Oh late showers, could there be anything better?_ I thought to myself, practically swooning.

Encased in my steamy prison, I blasted on some tunes in the background, humming to myself, which, by natural extension led to full blown singing after a hot second. I stood there until the hot water was nearly blanching my skin red – yes I know, hot water was a bitch to your hair, but there were very few things in life that were so refreshing and also so completely worth it.

Thankfully, I seemed to have achieved my goal of forgetting about the note from the shop – or at least it didn't worry me anymore. It was eight thirty and I was still alive and kicking.

Getting out of the shower, I had put on my oversized PJ's, with my hair hanging in wet strands down my back. Men's pyjamas were just so much sturdier than the transparent cotton they normally sold to girls y'know – and so my night time wardrobe was for the most part, the same.

I combed through the now flat streaks of nearly black hair, picking at the tangles. I had cut it to just under my ears last summer, but it had grown to just below my shoulders now, the thick mass of it a solid shade, resembling some sort of melanistic wolf.

When I finished, I took a moment to just stare at myself. Grey orbs observed their reflection as I lamented over how my face once looked.

It was like my skin hadn't gotten the memo to drop the teenagery skin issues one normally encountered through puberty – so while girls my age were looking like newly born sphinx cats, I was still here, looking like an alarmed sloth.

I had blotchy purple circles under my eyes – no doubt built-up from the long days at the shop. My olive skin seemed oddly green and sickly, and the redness of acne seemed to have been making a grand appearance around my nose.

I huffed – already tired of the way I looked, before deciding to head back to my room and binge watch the latest episodes of whatever was hot right now.

I scaled the apartment, traversing the stretch of it to get back to my room from the bathroom.

I was humming as I always did when I was alone, a silly little song from some silly little cartoon – it had become such a habit, with some select tunes so ingrained on my brain that I wouldn't even register when I started.

My voice died in my throat however, my body frozen in the doorway to my room at the sight before me.

My room was a haven of mine – a room that was _only_ mine. Everything was always messy, the floor littered with books, clothes accumulating in a pile over at the corner, a few dozen coffee mugs lying around.

It was my mess. But sitting right at the centre of it was a sight that made me have to double-take.

 _A person –_ a skinny man, with a dark unruly mess of ink-like curly hair and a long dark coat discarded off to the side, sat on the edge of my bed, swaying back and forth slightly.

He had tan skin and a light splattering of freckles all over his face. He wore a plain white button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark suit pants and a pair of black shoes. It must have taken a moment for him to notice me because as soon as he did, his green eyes visibly brightened and in an effort not to show how... strangely overjoyed he was to see me, he plastered on a mischievous grin and held out a bobby pin.

"This body seems to have a knack for lock-picking. Must've taken it up in exchange for 'French' this time round," He started in a low British accent. I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

My brain was in full panic mode as I tried to figure out who the hell was in my room and what I could do. Surprisingly, the instinct to punch his lights out and make a mad dash to the neighbours for help had escaped my mind.

He mustn't have noticed the alarm on my face, because a second passed before he broke into a little rant, exasperatedly saying things like "I found one in my shoe the other day" and "You can't just leave them lying about the ship like that!"

All I could do was watch the seemingly insane stranger pace around my room until I decided to try and find my voice – anything that would break me out of my fit.

 _"U-Um, just who are you?"_ I asked abruptly, putting on my best attempt at sounding confident, yet failing miserably. "What the hell are you doing in my room?"

 _Seriously, are you kidding me?_ I had a whole spinning wheel of options on 'what to do' appear in my head, yet my brain just _had_ to go with ' _choosing to talk to the crazy man'_ who could clearly overpower me in height and strength if he wanted to.

I immediately regretted my choice to confront him instead of getting help, because almost instantly, he lost all traces of his carefree demeanour and started inspecting me closely.

His eyes raked over every inch of my face and quickly down my body, making me blush at the intensity of his gaze. He seemed to have reached a stop as his bravado visibly fell and he seemed almost cautious. The shift in demeanour made this all very real, another awfully real sense of fear making itself known.

"Ah, I see. You're still early. Very early," He said slowly, watching me carefully.

Before I could respond, he grabbed his hair as his eyes went wide in some disbelief, "Blimey! I don't remember the last time I saw you this young. Not that you ever look old," He ended with a cheery smile.

"Older you would've slapped me for that. Ouch," He placed a hand up to his cheek in mock-hurt, "Never mind that. Don't want to jinx it."

I gawked back, more confused than I ever had been.

"What are you talking about...? _Were you looking for my mother?"_ I asked him guardedly, holding myself up higher. This wouldn't have been the first time then, I thought – realising my mother had fewer reservations about this kind of thing. Still, despite the occasional gentlemen friend she'd call over for a drink, I knew for sure that she'd never let someone in if she wasn't around – and definitely never near her kids.

I realised I suddenly didn't want the answer to that question, determined to just get rid of this sketchy guy. "Look, even if you were, what kind of a person breaks into a girl's bedroom? Unless you're some sort of pervert, I imagine you'll have a harder time coming up with an excuse," I finished, fixing him with a poignant look.

He seemed to take some of that in stride, oddly enough.

"What can I say? I drop pointless niceties when it comes to you, my dear. I can't be bothered waiting outside when we have adventures to go on, now can I?" He said charmingly, getting up and towering over towards me. "Also hello, it's me by the way. Your very own Doctor. I take it you haven't seen me like this yet; otherwise you wouldn't be standing there with your mouth hanging open."

He bent down slightly and looked at me like he was expecting something from me. His eyes were half-lidded and knowing, as if he had done this a thousand times. A patronizing, almost snooty air surrounded him, but the half-smile he bore seemed to be trying to suppress undeniably real feelings of happiness.

"Sorry, Doctor who?" I asked and almost laughed at that, leaning back in apprehension and by how close he was now standing in front of me.

"What do you mean by early? And 'older' me?"

Realisation seemed to dawn on him over how I had no idea what he was going on about.

It was like a flip had switched then, and right in front of me, he seemed to visibly age ten years. His bright green eyes that had been glittered with mischief turned void of their previous warmth and amusement – looking pallid. His skin too, just emptied of its life, leaving him looking cold to the touch.

 _"You have no idea who I am, do you?"_ He questioned in a barely there voice, a shade higher than a whisper. There was something about it that was just so laced with meaning and intent, and god I wondered how he was doing such a good job at acting like he'd had something important taken away from him.

He just looked straight into my eyes with a look that was almost desperate. "You've never met me before, not with this face or any of the other ones?"

"You'd think the confused looks and blank stare would have answered that for you," I muttered, slowly becoming more annoyed, before I properly looked into his face.

I couldn't help but feel a strange pity for this confusing stranger who looked so seemingly broken, in front of me. No one had ever looked at me like this before – in fact, I had doubted such a raw expression of emotion could exist outside of what people described in fancy poems and song lyrics.

I looked at him blankly, my voice wary and unable to reflect his feelings, "Who are you?"

The question seemed to break something in him.

Though before I could observe the change of emotion in his gaze, he shut his eyes and whirled around so that his back was facing me.

The lines in his back through his shirt were taught and rigid, like a violin who's strings were about to snap from excessive winding. He had his fists clenched at his sides as he seemed to physically be trying to restrain an urge to act on something. The pressure he seemed to be exerting was enough to make me wince, as I pictured red, weeping cuts where his nails were digging into skin.

After what felt like minutes, I heard him heave nothing more than a quiet sigh as he looked back at me. His eyes were very suddenly bloodshot.

"Well then, I suppose I'll have to introduce myself. Probably not making the best first impression, am I?" He chuckled lightly, the smile not reaching his eyes, leaving them empty. He took a step back so that he wasn't in my personal space anymore and extended his hand in an expectant handshake, "I'm the Doctor. And before you ask, yes that really is my name."

Before I could answer him, I felt a sharp pain in my chest and convulsed.

Like an electric shock, the pain was searing and I immediately felt all breath leave my body. Before I knew it, it was gone, leaving my eyesight slightly hazy from shutting my eyes so hard and my throat dry from the scream I must've erupted.

A pair of hands found themselves on each side of my arms and I could vaguely hear the man speaking soothing words to me as he lead me to the corner of the bed to sit down.

"What-what's happening to me?" I demanded dizzily, fast and almost drunken in the way I did, feeling the world come back into focus.

I could barely hear his voice through my distortion, but it sounded level – like he knew but wasn't letting on.

 _"Love, you're going to have to be very brave now. Do you hear me? And above everything, I'm so very sorry. I'm so, so sorry, but you're leaving."_

He spoke dismally yet in an even tone, rubbing my back as if he expected me to freak out at any instant. All the while, he had found the scrappy leather satchel I carried around with me everywhere.

He had begun shoving things into it. He packed my journal and my phone before anything else quickly moving to search my bedside table while taking small, seemingly insignificant things like pictures and memento's – I blanched as I realised that he was probably the one who had written the note.

"What do you mean? Please, you're scaring me..." I uttered quite pathetically, unable to stop the shaking in my hands that only started when my anxiety was beginning to get out of hand. I had never felt such a seething pain my whole life. My throat stung fiercely while my skin felt like it was being set on fire.

He instantly stopped what he was doing and with a soft, lop-sided smile, he leaned down in front of me. Taking both of my small hands in his larger ones and stopping their movements, he looked into my eyes. I was taken aback by the tenderness in his own as they radiated and seemed to simultaneously melt when he looked into my own.

No one had ever looked at me like that before and I couldn't help the furious blush that crept up my neck as I felt the need to avert my eyes.

 _I wasn't worth that kind of attention, no matter who it was coming from._

All the pain was momentarily forgotten as I was, once again, left baffled by the deranged man.

" _Do not worry, Fiona Moore_. I know you're scared and you have every right to be, but please, trust me," He asked in a tone so undeniably genuine and with eyes so clear, that I knew he wasn't lying. Somehow I knew. Either that or I had officially lost my mind and was hallucinating whatever bizarre dream my brain had thought up.

"How do you know me?" I ground out, my eyes drilling holes into his. I felt my anger catch up to me and tried to stave off the hysteria in my mind.

I _just_ wanted some answers.

He didn't answer. Instead his smile fell as he slipped the bag around me, before grabbing my chin lightly so that all my focus was on him.

"Where you're going, you'll meet a man. You'll definitely know him, I'm sure of it, and hopefully– God, hopefully he'll know you too." He ended just as I felt another blast of pain, this time watching as wisps and spirals of white flowing light, fluttered from my chest, slowly beginning to encompass me.

"W-What the hell..." I trailed off, my eyes fixed on the lights. I felt my vision go hazy and my heartbeat go haywire, just as it was when I was in front of the sign at the shop and that guy had bumped into me.

"That's your signal, I'm afraid," He spoke, letting go of my hands and beginning to step back, "Courage, dear heart."

"Wait!" I pleaded, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt.

"W-Will we meet again?" I asked, surprising myself with my forwardness. I had only known him for what, ten minutes? And I expected him to meet me again after I _left_ to god knows where?

Smiling sadly, he took my hand and pressed a soft kiss on the back of it. "Oh my dear, I'm afraid you'll never be able to get rid of me."

He let go reluctantly, and before I could ask the cause of the sadness in his face, I had to shut my eyes because of the intensity of the bright white light. The pain was overwhelming as it spread, all over my body. Eventually my legs gave way, and once the pressure of the light grew too strong for me, I was thrown into darkness.

* * *

 **Welcome to the afterword, folks! To clear up confusion, there are three versions of the doctor in this chapter – because that makes everything better, doesn't it? The woman in the shop was Jodie Whittaker's Doctor, whom we haven't seen as of yet – but I hope I made her seem compelling. The last version seen is a probable future version of the doctor, after Capaldi and Whittaker. Writing an OC version of the doctor might've or might've not been an incredibly stupid decision, either way I'll let you decide and if you don't like him, I'll never feature him again. P.S. I imagine him looking quite alot like the model/actor Ryan Kennedy (When he had curly hair) or Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock – Maybe even Eddie Redmayne. The first version seen outside the shop is who I'll leave up to you guys – but with a tan trenchcoat, I guess I made it a bit easy, huh?**

 **The reason I'm using future versions of the Doctor is because, Fiona here, knows about Doctor Who – and I thought it would be compelling to see what it would be like to have no idea that it's the Doctor that you're meeting – the same way all companions do!**

 **P.P.S. I'll be focusing on the versions of the Doctor we already know and love from now on, also already existing episodes and no new ones.**

 ***Edited - P.P.S.S. The lyrics mentioned are from 'Sleeping at last – Saturn' – I really hope you guys check it out; it's a great song that comes from a really great band.**

 **Alot of open-ended parts with no clear meaning may make a re-appearance, so watch out.**


	2. Chapter 2 - The Shakespearean Code

**Will We Meet Again?**

 **Chapter 2. The Shakespearean Code**

* * *

 **A/N: Welcome back you lovely things! I was surprised by how well received the first chapter was, so I truly thank all the people who were kind enough to follow, favourite and review. Honestly, I was super embarrassed about putting this story online but after reading your reviews, I feel like I might as well give it a shot. So yeah, thank you again and I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 **P.S. 'Chaa-ndni' translates to moonlight and is meant as a term of endearment.**

 **Also her last name, as seen in this chapter, is 'Moore' – Which is definitely not a Pakistani name, but will be justified in later chapters. I'll delve alot into the characters back-story in chapters to come, so do let me know if that's an appealing idea or not. Of course with OC stories, there are alot of varied tastes, but as long as I create a compelling character that fits well in the 'Whoniverse', I'll consider it a job well done.**

 ***Edited 14/12/17**

* * *

 _"Wake up dear. We're definitely not in Kansas anymore."_

* * *

A sharp ringing startled me awake.

The second I jolted – I was met with the most _muscle-splitting_ pain I had ever experienced, just everywhere.

I had dealt with a fair deal of pain in my time, of both the mental and physical varieties – but _god_ , this was as if I had taken all that pain and felt it at the exact same time, all at once.

I was lying face down on a cold grated floor with a crippling headache. The chilled metal, stuck to my cheek, tore at the skin as I tried to move – no doubt leaving a nasty raw mark. Every inch of my body _ached_ , a buzzing numbness that came after the flaying of skin under a flame. Though thankfully - that was slowly dying down.

My vision was buzzing in and out of focus as I began to move, almost like when you could barely make out the figures through the static of an old VHS tape. Shifting my head to the side to gleam my surroundings – I felt my heart race to my throat. I wasn't at home anymore. I wasn't at the shop. I wasn't _anywhere_ that I had been before.

I was lying on the floor of a long, curved corridor that produced randomly placed cut-offs to, what I assumed, were more corridors. The hallway was filtered in warm orange light – the kind you got when you turned the night shift on your phone on to protect sensitive eyes in the dark. It seemed to dim when I clutched my head in pain.

 _Where the hell am I?_

Looking around, I started to panic.

 _Oh_ _my god, I was right. I really was kidnapped and shipped off to the middle of nowhere. Oh god. Okay, deep breaths,_ _don't panic. Pssh yeah, because even if I **was** going to get murdered and harvested for my body parts – at least I wouldn't be panicking._

 _Wait, no._

 _Something **had** happened. At the back of my mind - I could make something out. Something peculiar. _

Images of a man with funny hair and sparkly eyes pricked the back of my mind. There was someone, _someone_ who managed to break through the normalcy of my life - tossing it on its ass completely.

Memories of what happened last night rushed back to me, but before I had a chance to contemplate them, the entire room started shaking violently. Bits of debris started falling from the ceiling as sparks flew from nearby wires on the wall.

 _Holy shit, this place is gonna blow!_

Clutching onto the smooth coral wall near me for support, I felt a sudden rush of warmth spread from it. Not physical heat, but a mental sort of relief, reminding me of the feeling when you'd finally get to lie down after a long day. Or of the fuzzy feeling you get when you enjoy a warm cup of cocoa on a cold day.

Though it was oddly soothing, I instantly yanked my hand back, startled by the alien presence. The shaking had stopped and I could hear voices far off. The fear I had been subduing was slowly creeping its way up my back and I wanted to hide.

A heavy sigh rolled off my lips as I closed my eyes, considering the situation.

 _No, I can't. I'll never find the answers I'm looking for if I stay cowering in a corner._

My heart hummed softly when I began thinking back to something my mother once said.

It was on a glaringly hot day, when I was little and all I could think about was how much I was dreading going to school the next day. A local girl had been pushing me around – making fun of the fact that I only had one parent. We were in our makeshift sun-room – a little terrace with light pieces of cotton over the windows, blocking out the harshness of the sun – when my mother put her fingers over mine. Her fingers were long and sleek, with all the elegance of a royal. I had just finished telling her about my plans of finally confronting the bully, as well as how I was afraid my nerves would get to me, when her green eyes met mine. Her eyes were the glimmering colour of emerald, sparkling in the light of the morning sun – like the fresh sheen of morning dew. She smiled a lovely little smile and told me –

 ** _"It's okay to be scared, chaa-ndnii. Being scared means you're about to do something really, really brave."_**

And with that, I took my first step into the unknown.

A whimper tore through my throat as I tried balancing on weak legs. Most of the pain had subsided, but now I felt dangerously nauseous – The uncomfortable, drowsy kind you'd get when you had too much medicine on a sick day.

I felt like shit, but I had to listen to my mother's words.

An odd ping at the back of my mind told me that I might never see her again if I didn't escape whatever this was. My beautiful mum, whom I had so much left to say to. I needed to fix what we had when I got back – so that we could go back to how things used to be.

I already missed Jackson.

 _Would he be alright when they couldn't find me?_

The thought made my steps falter, but I pressed on. _The sooner I could leave this place, the sooner I could get back to him._

I pushed all thoughts of them to the side, blinking away the beads of tears that threatened to spill. Whoever was keeping me here wouldn't care that I missed my family. Caring was _not_ an advantage, right now.

Adorning my metaphorical suit of armour, I kept on, despite the pain.

As I neared the end of the hallway, I set out to look for the source of the voices.

* * *

 _"I promised you one trip and one trip only. Outside this door... brave new world. "_

That was a man's voice - British – vague, but closer than before.

I had managed to navigate my way to the voices, even though I had a strange feeling that the walls were rearranging themselves so that I could pass by easily.

 _Man, at this point, it would be even more disconcerting if I hadn't been drugged._

The walls and the general look of the place seemed to bring back these odd, indescribable feelings of _nostalgia_?

Even though I was more than sure I had never been here before – it felt almost as if I were walking through a dream. The sounds of metal clanking in the walls, underlying this general hum of white noise – it made me feel like we were underground, or on a submarine of sorts.

It sounded almost like breathing, weirdly enough.

I stumbled closer to a circular hole in the wall that was far bigger than any of the doorways I had passed by – the voices were closer than ever.

I clamped a hand over my nose to conceal my breathing.

I had to be smart about this – like they were Predators and I was a beefy Arnold Schwarzenegger who was more than ready to start throwing hands. I had the element of surprise.

Steeling myself, I drew my damp hair behind my field of vision, cautiously ready to peek out the corner.

What I saw stole the breath from my lungs.

It was a large room – but to call it a room was an understatement. The sight that met my eyes was most definitely familiar.

It was a console room. The _TARDIS_ console room. A fictional room, right in front of me.

Coral columns and round things stuck out imposingly from the coppery walls, all encompassing the glowing control unit at the centre of it all.

I stood wide-eyed with my mouth hanging open, not understanding or believing how I could have been where I was.

It was the sight of the television programme I loved back home – ever since I was a child, really. I had been catching odd bits of it ever since I had access to a screen - never in the right order but enough to draw me in every time I caught sight of the mysterious characters at the heart of it. I had to admit I had a place in my heart for it, but even so, it made no sense that I could be on _the_ set.

Apparently I had entered some kind of trance, because I didn't even register that I had walked into the room – before it was too late.

 _So much for the element of surprise._

There was a sound, abrupt and questioning.

The same man's voice.

I think that there was a broken version of my name called from behind me, but before I could refocus – two long arms were pulling me under their weight.

Someone was _crushing_ me.

My face was buried into soft cotton. The spiky ends of hair were tickling my ears as someone – whoever the hell it was who was suffocating me – muttered incoherent words of relief by my ear.

 _'Oh Rassilion, you're alright' 'How can you be here?' 'I was so worried' –_ were amongst the nonsensical ramblings I had picked up on.

I reeled in shock, tensing up as my mind drew a blank. In a fit of pure instinct, I pushed against the body harshly, almost falling over myself as I ambled back.

I held my hands out into fists, ready to fight the stranger if I had to. But it was like my brain couldn't keep up with my impatient eyes, as all I could do when I found the face of my attacker was gape.

 _Oh great, I've been kidnapped by a cosplayer. Considering how fragile they frequently tend to be, this was a new low for my self-defense skills._

But I'd never seen something so believable, my brain had to admit. In fact, the face in front of me was almost scarily realistic.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

"You're the Doctor," I breathed out with eyes wide in awe.

It was really him - not some imitation. It was the Tenth doctor. Standing there in his classic brown Pinstripe suit. He had this look of confusion plastered clear across his angular features.

I felt my hands go limp, dropping to my sides.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt, love?" He asked in raised alarm, with his hands elevated in caution.

His British accent sounded so familiar to my ears and yet it all felt so wrong.

He was a _character_ – a one-sided being that only existed behind in the confines of a glass screen. It was just _too_ unreal. He even called me 'love'. Since when did the man before me, fictional or not, go around calling people ' _love'_?

Maybe it was a British thing, but regardless, it was all a little too friendly for me. _He didn't know me_ \- _hell, he was probably the reason why I was here in the first place._

And to top it all off, for some reason unbeknownst to me, he was afraid. I could see it in his face. Nervous eyes were analysing me, watching me like he was afraid I'd attack him.

 _And here I was thinking that **I** was supposed to be feeling that way._

Suddenly, it didn't matter if I knew who he was or not. I was angry. He was, without a doubt, taking advantage of how curious I was, making me forget that I had every right to be fuming. Feeling less sympathetic for him, I decided to be especially cautious and figure out what the hell was going on.

Realising that I had just been glowering at him instead of answering his questions with a barrage of my own, I tried to form words from the thoughts swirling through my mind. The intensity of my anger once again subsided into headache-inducing confusion.

" _God_ , I must really be losing my mind. How are you here?" I started, gripping my forehead, almost laughing at the absurdity of the situation," I mean, you're not real. You're a work of fiction. You were just on the telly last weekend."

"A f-fictional character?" His voiced hitched as he looked at me with a new layer of confusion. His eyebrows hit his hairline as I watched him falter.

That's when it hit me. Not real. This must all just be a trippy dream where my mind's conjured up an ancient timelord to account for the lack of a social life. I actually let out a little laugh with my eyebrows raised, feeling relief hit me like a wall. Examining the alien closer just confirmed my thoughts. The actor who played him, David Tennant, would have to be forty-something by now – not that his age put a damper on the way he looked – I just remembered seeing the age in his face during the 50th anniversary episode.

However, unlike David, the Doctor that stood in front of me now seemed as young as the day he regenerated.

He held his hands out, looking at me beseechingly.

"Fiona, I'm real. I promise you, I'm real," He stressed, the intonations in his voice making me blink at how good my mind was at imitating his character. He looked taken aback - at a loss on how to react.

His brown eyes were wide with apprehension as he seemed to think about how to approach me. He fixed me with a steady gaze, eyes like sun baked soil, pale even though they were a deep brown. "Have you not – Have we not met yet?"

I shook my head like the question was insane. "Well no, why would we have? I was just at home when this freakin' Star Trek teleport beamed me here." I explained, careful to leave out bits of the truth, wondering what the figment of my imagination would say next.

I didn't yet know who the other mystery man had been – he'd called himself 'The Doctor' too, but that couldn't have been possible... I'd never seen him with a face like that...

Then, in a sudden twist of fate, a single cough echoed out from behind me.

"Yeah, sorry to interrupt, but who's she?" A third voice broke in, disarming the stand-off between the Doctor and me.

Martha Jones with her red leather jacket and 'take-no-shit attitude' stance peered past a coral column, her eyes fixed inquisitively on me. Something about her slight smile buzzed with excitement, like she had just been permitted a sneaky snoop into the Doctor's life. She was absolutely gorgeous too, standing a foot or two taller than me – she looked like a freaking supermodel.

"Oh, Martha! Right, sorry 'bout that. This is a friend of mine. Great friend. No, brilliant friend! Though, not for her, I don't think," He pronounced like nothing was wrong, putting on a cheery smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Look at me, where are my manners! Martha Jones, Fiona Najma Moore. Fiona, this is Martha," He turned to face me with knowing eyes, "but I'm sure you already knew that."

"Uh huh, a'right. Nice to meet you." She smiled a little hesitantly at me, reaching out to shake my hand lightly.

It was like my presence didn't really faze her – the unfamiliarity honestly being a welcome change.

"Anyway, we were just getting to the bit where it travels in time. I mean, I'm still not convinced," She said to me, flashing a conspiratorial grin and turning towards the doctor, looking like an excited puppy. **"** Where are we?" She asked excitedly.  
 **  
**"Take a look," He said with an amused smile, opening the TARDIS doors with an all too familiar creak. "After you."

After Martha walked out, he grabbed my wrist lightly to prevent me from following her.

He pulled me so that I was standing directly in front of him, bending his knees so that we were at the same height. He was looking at me the very same way the curly-haired man at my house had looked at me. Except this time, the eyes were not a cool, liquid jade. This time, they were fiery gold orbs that looked straight at me with fierce determination, begging me to listen to him.

"I know what's happening now. You'd think Nine hundred years would've prepared me for this chat," He said, smiling somewhat remorsefully to himself, before turning resolute. "I know you don't think this is real. That it's all a dream. And I can't blame you for thinking that – but just for now, let me show you," He muttered, holding my gaze.

He then stole my hand from my side, so that it was splayed across the middle of his chest. Through the fabric of his suit, I felt two supposedly real hearts beating away in unison. "By the end of tonight, you'll believe me."

I could swear I'd just recently seen such a self-assured grin.

I sighed, silent. On the outside, I kept my face blank. Unreadable to anyone who couldn't really see through me – years worth of practice, I suppose.

Though, despite my exterior – on the inside, I couldn't help but feel really, really lonely. It annoyed me; the still sort of depression my mind had faded into upon hearing the Doctor's words. Because after all, who _wouldn't_ want all this?

A life of adventure – a life that meant something. It was like my brain was playing a trick on me. Giving me something that I'd spend night after night dreaming of – except, there was a catch.

I knew it was fake. It was all _fake_.

The silly dream of a silly girl who never wanted to grow up.

No matter what the man before me could've said, I simply couldn't believe him.

Anything outside of what I knew and what I thought to be true just couldn't be real – no matter how much I wished for it to be true.

 _And oh how I wished it._

It was every child's dream, to be whisked away into the pages of a story book - the amount of times I'd go to sleep at night with hope that I'd wake up somewhere far away, would be evidence enough.

But I wasn't a kid anymore – And I hadn't been one for quite some time. Kids believed in the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus. Kids dreamed of finding hidden worlds at the back of their closets – Waking up to find yourself in some faraway land. Kids dreamed of Neverland, secretly hoping Peter Pan would steal them away at night. Kids dreamed of spotting a white rabbit, chasing it through a hole and into Wonderland. Kids dreamed of magic and spells, fairies and dragons. Kids believe in true love and soul mates, places where they _belonged_.

 _No, I really wasn't a kid anymore. I had long since stopped believing the moon followed me as I drove away.  
_

While I still loved books, pinning most of my mental sanity on story after story, coveting in fiction more than anything, I knew when to draw the line. I knew what was real and what wasn't. And _this,_ this just couldn't be it.

As far as I believed, reality was that this was all some twisted dream. And somehow, the lanky man who stood before me seemed to know just that – The gleam in his eye said that he was trying to prove something to me.

 _Could he hear what I was thinking?_

Uncomfortable and at a loss for what to say, all I could do was take a instinctive step back and nod, watching as a boyish smile formed across his face while his eyes twinkled mischievously.

 _Like a kid who'd just be given an ultimate challenge to prove his worth,_ I mused. Against my will, I could feel the edges of my lips rising into a rare smirk, his grin being too infectious.

 _Oh well, if anything this ought to be fun. This is my dream after all._

 _Why not humour him until I wake up?_

* * *

We followed Martha outside onto an Elizabethan street at night with people milling about. I looked up sharply as his hand had intertwined itself with mine. His skin felt like warm clay stretched out too thin – knobby and unfinished, yet smooth. It suited him, I mused, caught off guard.

 _It's just a dream,_ I reminded myself. _God forbid would I allow this in the real world_.

"Oh, you are kidding me. You are _so_ kidding me. Oh, my God! We did it. We travelled in time. Where are we? No, sorry. I gotta get used to this whole new language. When are we?" Martha spewed out, enraptured by the new surroundings.

I couldn't fault her childish enthusiasm at all. The old Victorian streets were bathed in the glow of orange fire – obviously a stark contrast with the lack of electricity. The large alleyway that the TARDIS had landed in was bustling with people, dressed in garments that were ragged and covered in either soot or dirt, but no less as interesting for someone straight out of the twenty-first century. There was a faint lull of fast music, the thrumming making it seem like there was a big event that everyone was planning for. All in all, I could feel my heart soar with excitement at the chance of exploring the olden streets.

Looking over at me and seeing my eyes widen at the beauty of the late 15th century street, the Doctor's smile increased tenfold. His grip on my hand seemed to tighten, like he was afraid I'd float off. I looked back at him with a questioning gaze, but he just shook his head and murmured, "It's just- I didn't think I'd ever be able to see that look on your face again."

Odd. Thinking about it, he _had_ been acting as though I were a friend who he hadn't seen in years. What with that dramatic hug at my arrival and the little looks he'd keep sending me, like he had to make sure I was still there. What worried me was the intensity behind every move – why was he being so jittery?

Before I could ask him more about it, The Doctor looked up and pulled Martha by the arm, back towards us. She had been standing a foot ahead of us and had just nearly missed a man dumping the contents of a bucket from a first floor window. **"** Mind the loo!" he shouted down at us, uncaringly.  
 **  
**"Somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that," The Doctor said offhandedly to Martha, completely unfazed, before he started down the street – pulling me along with him.  
 **  
**"I've seen worse. I've worked the late night shift at A &E," She remarked with an acute tone of disgust from behind us.

"Must be a tough job," I remarked, peering back at Martha curiously. There was so much I wanted to know about her and the Doctor with what little time I was sure I had.

Martha was never my favourite companion, back when I watched the show. For some reason or another, she never stuck out as very memorable.

However, walking through an actual episode, shoulder to shoulder with the woman herself – I couldn't help but feel guilty. She actually felt _real_. And I suppose that's what had me scraping through my memories of her from the show, actually _wanting_ to know more about the trainee medic's life. Was her medical training difficult? What was her family like? Did she also dream of big adventures? I suppose all companions do if they'd go along with the Timelord at my side.

She must have seen something genuine in my implied question, because she smiled warmly, "Yeah, but it's nice enough. I've always wanted to help people, so the late shifts are worth it."

I grinned, happy to have earned such a response.

"I had an aunt that was a Medic, growing up. Her popularity with the kids often came from her stories about the ER," I relayed, a memory of my father's distant sister. We'd just met a few times in passing, but the stories sure did stay with you. I squinted, half disgusted, and half impressed with one memory. "I never really considered how many people come in with weird objects stuck in various parts of their bodies, claiming they somehow fell onto it. The answer is a lot, apparently."

Martha huffed a short string of laughs, looking like she related to that on a spiritual level. "Yeah, tell me about it. It gives you a little more perspective about the world we live in."

I smiled back, half-content as the environment soon distracted her again. I knew that Martha was naturally suspicious of most people, and that now that her crazed excitement had died down, she looked at me with noticeably raised walls. Somehow, the slight indifference in her towards me just made me want to knock those walls down. I recalled how the Doctor never really cared to know much about Martha in their time together, which really seemed like a shame.

The three of us kept walking, but during Martha and my exchange, the Doctor seemed to keep tugging incessantly at my hand like an impatient child. It felt like he wanted to avoid any 'getting-to-know-one-another' questions, which pissed me off, to be quite frank.

I knew he had some reservations about Martha when she first started travelling with him – a sort of hesitancy and distrust when he didn't entirely want to be travelling with the person. But why in all seven hells would he act like I felt the same way? That, by pulling me along, I wasn't in the same position as her.

 _This was my dream, and it was up to me how I wanted to spend it._

Increasing my pace to match the Doctor's long strides, I pulled my arm away from him, shooting him a look, "Do you mind? I'm not exactly in any mood to have my arm dislocated tonight. Also, you're not getting away that quick. We'll talk about why you keep looking at me like I'm the missing link later, okay?"

I couldn't help but savour the look of apprehensive dread that ran over the Doctors face because of the glare I sent him, assuring him that I was far from happy with his mysterious behaviour.

It also confirmed that there indeed was something wrong here. Something secret being kept from me.

All he could do was nod quickly before Martha started talking again.

"Are we safe? I mean, can we move around and stuff? Isn't it like in the films? You step on a butterfly; you change the future of the human race," She questioned, perplexed. I too had to wonder of the implications that came with changing even the slightest thing.  
 **  
**"Of course we can. Though, don't step on any butterflies. What have butterflies ever done to you?" He shot back casually, registering that I was lost in my thoughts about the topic.

 **"** What if, I dunno, what if I kill my grandfather?" She continued, trying to get her head around the notion.

"Or invent the cure to the some great disease a couple years early. Give them some meds and call it a healing fruit or something," I proposed.  
 **  
**"Either of you planning to?" He asked, flashing Martha and I with his wide, incredulous eyes. The ridiculous quality of his face was truly a sight to behold.

"No," Martha answered blandly, coming to terms with the unofficial rules of time-travelling. I still wasn't convinced.

"It'd save a ton of people some pain," I pondered out loud. Sure it'd mess with time and all, but surely it would be worth it, right?  
 **  
**"It would risk too much. Everything has a time to be invented. The creation of antibiotics should stay in the 19th century just the same," The Doctor replied ceremoniously, before shooting me a sly look and waggling his eyebrows. "Besides, I don't think that Sir Alexander Fleming would appreciate you stealing his patent for penicillin. Worked on it his whole life, y'know."

"Oh, you just make it all sound so easy, don't you? Have you got a guide to the history of the universe imprinted on your brain?" I questioned him sarcastically, snorting at the proud smirk on his face.

"That wouldn't be too impossible, would it?" The Doctor answered all self-surely, as if I could've suggested he had a whole libraries worth of encyclopaedias in there and I'd still be right.

 _This is by far the most detailed dream I've ever had; my brain even got his prodigious ego down._

"Oh, but hold on. Am I all right? I'm not gonna get carted off as a slave, am I? Fiona either?" Martha said, gesturing first to herself and then to my olive skin and middle-eastern features.

Damn, she had a point – I wasn't very well-versed in knowledge of medieval times, but looking around; I determined that Martha and I were the only people of colour on the whole street.  
 **  
**"Why would they do that?" The Doctor asked, looking deeply perplexed over the idea.

 _Oh the sweetheart, always thinking the best of humanity isn't he?_ I smiled secretly to myself. _  
_ **  
**"We're not exactly white, in case you haven't noticed," She retaliated, giving him her best 'don't-be-stupid' look.  
 **  
**"I'm not even human. Just walk about like you own the place. Works for me. Besides, you'd be surprised. Elizabethan England, not so different from your time. Look over there." He returned, pointing to a man shovelling manure. "They've got recycling."

 **"** Water cooler moment." He added, signalling to the two men conversing at a water barrel before moving along, Martha catching up to walk alongside me.

We walked past a man preaching about the end of the world and how the world would be consumed by flame.

"Global warming," The Doctor added amusedly, smiling at the sound that I tried to suppress, that sounded like something between a snort and a chuckle. He was making me laugh more than I had in a while, and I could see just how pleased he was with himself for doing so.

"Oh, yes, and... _entertainment!_ Popular entertainment for the masses. If I'm right, we're just down the river by Southwark right next to..." He trailed off, motioning for me to grab Martha's hand before we all ran around a street and a few corners.

"Oh, yes, the Globe Theatre! Brand new. Just opened. Through, strictly speaking, it's not a globe; it's a tetradecagon — 14 sides — containing the man himself." He finished speaking, searching our faces for a reaction.  
 **  
**" _Shakespeare's in there?_ Oh of course _,_ " I breathed in complete disbelief, recalling information about this particular episode. I had watched it once during lunch with a thing of Kraft Mac 'n Cheese.

This was Shakespeare in the flesh. A jokester for his time that always seemed to hate most people, while simultaneously drawing inspiration from them and their flaws. He was a notorious bastard, just as popular for being a hopeless romantic, and more tragically for writing some of the most heart-wrenching things you could imagine – later in his life.

I had almost every rendition from 'The Comedy of Errors' to his last works of 'Henry VIII,' back at the shop, often having spent a good few days trying to find hidden meanings and translations of dirty jokes buried away within the texts. It always struck me as funny how you could absolutely despise having to study his plays in school, but actually found a way to enjoy them later in life.

Above all, I admired him for his humanity. He wrote for the people, no matter how much money was thrown his way. You can imagine how that intrigue for an olden playwright could grow when I saw this episode.

It was easy to look back at the past and scoff or turn away bored, but Shakespeare truly was a genius. I was suddenly incredibly happy with my brain for picking such a premise for the night.

Looking at the Doctor and Martha, I couldn't help but feel like swell of excitement become replaced by guilt.

 _This was supposed to be their outing. To establish them as friends._

But the Doctor wasn't nearly as engaged with Martha as he was in the original episode – hell, I don't think he's even looked at her unless she got in his space. I felt terrible when I remembered that this was supposed to be her moment, regardless of if it was a dream or not.

 _Oh well, I'll wake up sooner or later, and then he'll be all hers._  
 **  
**"Oh, yes," The Doctor drawled out one of his many signature phrases, holding out both his arms. _"_ Miss Moore, Miss Jones, would you both do me the honour of accompanying me to the theatre?"

"Yes, Mr. Smith, I will." Martha replied instantaneously, grabbing onto his left arm.

I, in turn, hesitated for a second, considering just turning around and walking back to the spaceship, ready to just wait around for this dream bubble to pop. But the second I met the brown-haired man's eyes and saw a genuine want for me to say yes, I found my hesitation melting away.

"You don't even need to ask, silly alien," I rolled my eyes with a smile, trying to suppress the jitterbugs in my stomach. "I hope you brought popcorn."

I slipped an arm around the one I was already holding hands with, watching as his eyes filled with mirth at the use of the nickname I had just appointed him.

I couldn't help a smile at how carefree he looked – the tired lines in face seeming practically nonexistent. Remembering that this was just after he lost Rose, I immediately decided to do my best to cheer him up.

 _He was his best when he was happy. There'd be no broken hearts around here tonight, I'd make sure._

"When you get home, you can tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare," He commented, directing the statement fully at Martha.

Odd. He'd left me a little confused as to why the idea wasn't relevant to me.

Regardless, I smiled along – if he's a figment of my imagination, then of course he'd know I'd have no one to tell of this experience. Everyone would think I'd have gone insane, except Jackson. The kid would probably just draw me a picture of what he'd think the dream would've looked like.  
 **  
**"Then I could get sectioned!" Martha ended wryly before we all started to make our way to the infamous Globe Theatre.

* * *

We found ourselves in a packed house, with everyone applauding and cheering. Actors onstage were taking their final bows.

"That's amazing! Just amazing. It's worth putting up with the smell. And those are men dressed as women, yeah," Martha piped up, struggling to be heard amongst the roaring voices in the crowd.  
 **  
**"London never changes." The Doctor replied matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, but that was brilliant. _Everything and everyone's so alive_ ," I joined in, absolutely ecstatic. The horrid smell didn't even register as I looked out onto the crowd. People of all different statuses, united as one, were losing their minds in elation. Sweet music and loud, boisterous cheers interweaved beautifully. The actors on stage were exhausted with sweat dripping off them in this heat, but they were grinning with pride. The atmosphere was painted in good spirit and it was impossible to not want to join in.

Upon noticing the pure exuberance on my face, I caught the Doctor looking at me with a soft smile. It was almost too genuine for words. However this time, I didn't glare or look at him with skepticism. This time, I returned the smile whole-heartedly, wondering when the last time I felt so excited was.  
 **  
**"Where's Shakespeare? I wanna see Shakespeare," Martha started; breaking the both of us out of a kind of trance that I hadn't realised was there. "Author! Author!" She begun to shout, raising her fist in the air.

The Doctor and I both shared a look and stared at her in uncertainty, him raising one of his expressive brows and me shrugging an 'I don't know' noise at him.

 **"** Do people shout that? Do they shout "Author"? "Martha asked, suddenly embarrassed. A man in crowd next to Martha picks up the chant and it soon spreads around the entire crowd. **  
**  
"Well they do now." I said to her, chuckling, leaning forward to look at her from next to the Doctor. "Look at you, you trendsetter."

All of a sudden, Shakespeare came out from behind the curtain and took an exaggerated bow while blowing kisses. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but the audience went even wilder than before and the cheers became deafening.

 **"** He's a bit different from his portraits," Martha exclaimed over the noise, peering to get a better look at the Bard.

"He's a bit handsome, isn't he?" I stated, raising my eyebrows and trying to get a better look. I caught the group of women on my right snickering, having heard my comment and reacting like it was either hilarious or like it was quite the understatement.

 _Great, just the right time for my mouth to have to verbal filter,_ I grimaced before I heard a sputtering sound on my left.

The Doctor scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Please. Genius, maybe. He's a genius - _the_ genius, but not... that." He ended, stressing the words and looking slightly embarrassed at his own outburst, but looking at me for confirmation anyway.

I nodded my head hesitantly, bewildered by the out-of-character display. I looked over at Martha to find her just as confused, and a bit– put out?

 _Why does he care who I find attractive? He didn't have a problem with Martha flirting it up with the Author in the episode._

 _Pssh_ , he was probably just miffed that I felt the need to comment on the Bards' looks instead of his own – _the attention whore_. I had forgotten that the Doctor did _live_ for the appraise – wasn't it one of the reasons he kept his companions along?

I chuckled softly to myself, reminded of a certain consulting detective and his own companion, immortalised in the pages of texts back at my shop. Sherlock Holmes was one of my favourite fictional characters – him and his ever-faithful friend and colleague, John Watson. How Holmes, a brilliant, arrogant arse of a man, began to be so much more once he found solace and new meaning through Watson. However, not before Watson marvelled at the intellectual abilities of the detective and his crime-solving skills.

A part of me knew that the Doctor had a cocky side to him - much like Holmes - and even if he came across as this wandering hero who was indifferent to praise – he had always held this air that said he got a kick out of it.

I was broken out of my thoughts when the doctor picked himself up, like nothing had happened. His eyes flickered and came alight to a point where they resembled burning logs of aged wood.

 _"_ The most 'Human' human that's ever been. Now we're gonna hear him speak. Always, he chooses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words," He spoke, like a child describing their hero – pure glee in his eyes. I couldn't help but watch him out the corner of my eye, he just made such an endearing image.

 ** _"_** _Shut your big fat mouths!"_ Shakespeare bellowed from the stage as the audience erupted into laughter.

 _"_ Oh, well." The Doctor conceded, clearly disappointed and with a sad, puppy-dog look on his face. I frowned and patted him on the shoulder consolingly.

"There there," I tried to sound genuine – I really did. "Expectation is the root of all heartbreak, or hadn't you heard?"

He shook his head, his pointer finger digging into his eye. Even he couldn't deny a small smile in the corner of his mouth. "Oh, don't start quoting Shakespeare at me. I think I've had enough poetry for today," he said as I laughed.

Shakespeare continued to amble around stage, seemingly cracking jokes as the audience around us howled and shook with laughter.

 **"** You should never meet your heroes." Martha added dejectedly. Odd, I didn't remember seeing her so bummed out at this point in the episode. She seemed to have drifted into a world of her own, fixing me with an unreadable look – turning to face the stage only when I caught sight of her.

Martha Jones, what _are_ you hiding?

* * *

We listened for a while longer, hearing upcoming plans for the new play 'Loves Labour's Won' that, in the future, was deemed lost. Deciding to stay for a while longer to uncover what happened to it, we headed to the 'Elephant Inn' to meet the Bard himself.

Upon arriving we heard three voices inside the room we were directed to, bantering amongst themselves. "You must be mad, Will. 'Love's Labour's Won'? We're not ready. It's supposed to be next week."

"What made you say that?" An exasperated second voice asked, most probably being one of the actors onstage.

"I've just got the final scene to go. You'll get it by morning." Shakespeare's voice replied sombrely.

Before I knew it, the Doctor's head was already through the doorway.

 **"** Hello!" The Doctor announced cheerily, appearing and knocking on the already open door. "Excuse me! I'm not interrupting, am I? Mr. Shakespeare, isn't it?"

 _He is such a fan-boy_ ; I mused to myself, shaking my head fondly at him from behind his back.

I peered out from behind him along with Martha just after Shakespeare closed his eyes in annoyance at the Doctor.

The room was small, but felt cosy due to the candlelight encompassing the walls, as well as the scents of dried ink and fresh ale that lingered in the air.

 _Willy's eyesight must be shit if he constantly had to write and read in this room._

"Oh no, no, no, no. Who let you in? No autographs. No, you can't have yourself sketched with me. And please don't ask where I get my ideas from. Thanks for the interest. Now be a good boy and shove—" He stopped abruptly, opening his eyes and noticing Martha and I standing in the doorway.

 _"_ Hey, nonny nonny. Both of you lovely creatures sit right down here next to me," He gestured flirtatiously towards the both of us, dismissing the Doctor and the alarmed expression on his face.

 _"_ You two get sewing on them costumes. Off you go." He motioned vaguely to his friends, not taking his eyes off of us. Alarm bells were ringing in my head, but I couldn't do much as Martha hooked her arm through mine – bringing the both of us to sit where the actors had previously been seated.  
 **  
**"Come on, lads. I think our William's found his new muses," Dolly Bailey said, motioning towards the door.

 _Oh god, I hope not_ \- I dreaded, suddenly very hesitant to stay in the room. This guy could genuinely be my great-great-great-great grandfather for all I knew and none would be the wiser.

"Sweet ladies. Such unusual clothes. So... fitted," He drawled, gesturing to Martha who had taken the left seat while I had taken the right. "And you, in oversized men's wear that appears so... thin." He added, gesturing to my pyjamas. I had forgotten that I was still in my baggy nightclothes when I caught onto what the Bard was saying.

They _were_ made of a thin material, which would've been highly unusual to wear in a time where it was considered scandalous for women to even show their ankles.

Naturally, I couldn't help the flush of self-consciousness that ran through me. I'm sure I had turned beet-red in embarrassment as I crossed my arms over my chest.

His eyes raked over my form and I debated whether or not to slap the manners back into him the second I escaped my insecure little frenzy.

I was startled out of making that choice since something heavy was draped over my shoulders. The Doctor had taken of his coat and placed it over my shoulders, fixing Shakespeare with a glare that I couldn't help but gawk at.

 _This version of the Doctor was normally friendly with most people, let alone his idols. He'd only reserve glares like that for his enemies._

"U...um, verily, forsooth, egads," Martha started in hopes of breaking the tension that filled the air, stripping her eyes from the sight **.**

"U-uh yeah, Good morrow," I tried, just as off-kilter as her take on ye old English.

"No, no, don't do that. Don't," The Doctor said to us, cringing. He held out his psychic paper to Shakespeare from behind me. _"_ I'm Sir Doctor of TARDIS, this is my consort, Fiona Moore, and our companion, Miss Martha Jones."

I instantly turned around to him with wide, unbelieving eyes because obviously - _consort, my ass._

He met my gaze evenly, giving me a look that seemed to say 'Don't ask. I'll tell you later.'

 _Great. Just another thing to add to my already long list of questions,_ I grimaced. _This really was beginning to be the most tiring dream I've ever had. Wasn't that ironic?_

"Interesting, that bit of paper. It's blank," Shakespeare eyed the paper skeptically, his mind calculating as he seemed to have been reading the Doctor instead.

 **"** Oh, that's... very clever. That proves it. Absolute genius!" The Doctor exclaimed, his previous strife with the man being momentarily forgotten.  
 _  
_"No, it says so right there. Sir Doctor, Dame Fiona and Martha Jones. It says so," Martha stressed looking at the Doctor in confirmation.

"Yeah, she's right," I murmured, making sure Martha wasn't on her own. Sneaking my own peek at the Doctor's infamous 'Physic Paper' I found that it resembled those holographic trading cards you'd collect as a kid.

At first the card appeared blank; however in an instant, words began to appear and stain the paper. It seemed like something straight from 'Harry Potter', I regarded it thoughtfully, comparing it to what I imagined the Marauders Map would look like.  
 **  
**"And I say it's blank," Shakespeare concluded with a tone of finality, looking at Martha and me like we were mad.  
 _  
_"Psychic paper. Um, long story," He said to Martha sheepishly, noticing that I didn't seem too surprised at the device. "Oh, I hate starting from scratch."

"Psychic. Never heard that before and words are my trade. Who are you exactly? More's the point, who are your delicious blackamoor and towel-headed ladies?" He said dismissively, returning his focus on both Martha and me.

 **"** What did you say?" and "What was that?" Martha and I simultaneously shrieked, both in anger and offense.  
 **  
**"Oops. Isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A Queen of Afric... And you my dear, a camel jockey? Brownie? Rag-head?" He stated nonchalantly, not noticing the positively appalled expressions on our faces.

All the while the Doctor exhaled deeply, his eyes going the size of the moon – his entire expression said that he was on the same boat as us but that he understood that Shakespeare's thinking was a by-product of his time.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Martha managed with wide eyes, looking a moment away from going into a stupor.

"Good thing my mom's not here. If he ever said that to her, she'd wreck him," I breathed out to myself, in complete disbelief. "And they do say that mother's pass down more than just looks."

"I'd like to see that," The Doctor snorted at my comment in amusement and I smiled back at him, sheepishly. It seemed like this dream was beginning to play tricks on me – looking more and more real.

Of course, however, the only reason the Doctor could know my mom would be because he was a figment of my own imagination – which probably meant that his snort was my mind agreeing with me.

 **"** It's political correctness gone mad. Um, Fiona and Martha are from a far-off land; Freedonia." He ended, amusedly.

 **"** Excuse me!" A tall man interrupted, entering the room. "Hold hard a moment. This is abominable behaviour. A new play with no warning? I demand to see a script, Mr Shakespeare. As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me before it can be performed."

All the while Shakespeare and the man were bickering over the play; the Doctor stepped away from behind my seat to next to me. Leaning down, he looked me right in the eye with concern pervading his own golden ones.

"Hi," He said softly, making sure that no one could hear us, "Are you doing alright now? Genuinely?"

"Yeah, I'm fine" I replied softly, voice a whisper as to not disturb the Bard and his argument. "Although it's strange, my dreams never last this long–" I trailed off, wondering how long I'd be able to stay in this exciting dreamscape.

I'll admit it was beginning to worry me – my mind flashed to probable scenarios where I ended up in a coma on my way home from work. The thought was deeply unsettling but seemed to be becoming more and more of a probability. The longer and harder I pinched the inside of my palm, the more anxious I got.

I smiled sadly at the Doctor, "It'd be for the best if I just woke up soon."

His eyes lost their glow and his pupils dilated in remembrance.

He seemed to be going along with the flow of this adventure just as I had, except, he was allowing himself to forget something else entirely. It kept slipping my mind that he was nothing but a dream, but even I couldn't fathom what it was that he was choosing to ignore.

We were torn out of our conversation once again when the man, whose name I recalled was Lynley, bellowed a question that I didn't catch.  
 **  
**"I can't." Shakespeare rebuffed with annoyance and anger creasing his brow.  
 **  
**"Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled." Lynley ended with a smug look on his face. "I'm returning to my office for a banning order. If it's the last thing I do, 'Love's Labour's Won' will never be played."

"It's all go, 'round here, isn't it?" Martha remarked once he had left. All I could do was nod my head absent-mindedly, my heart filling with sympathy for Shakespeare. An artist like him deserved the space they needed to work, especially someone who was a loved as William Shakespeare. Unfortunately, my sentiments _were_ half-hearted. Ninety percent of my thoughts were still swimming in a cesspool of confusion.

This 'adventure' was beginning to feel more and more like a berserk merry-go-round that was spinning out of control – with the only foreseeable option being to jump off before I ended up dead.

* * *

 **"** Well, then – mystery solved. That's 'Love's Labours Won' over and done with. Thought it might be something more, you know... more mysterious," Martha remarked, off-handedly.

And then, in a moment that felt both rushed and like it dragged on for an unbearably slow amount of time – someone had died.

We heard a high, ear-piercing scream come from outside and collectively bolted to find Lynley spitting up water. He was literally spewing water like a fish pulled from water – which made no sense in the quickness of it all.

The Doctor and Martha both raced forward to help the man, however, they were too late. He had drowned on dry land and the visual was terrifying beyond words.

In the episode, it seemed like nothing more than an actor throwing up a meagre sip of water that was made to look good in special effects.

However, this was real.

 _Or at least as real as my brain could make it,_ I pleaded with myself, refusing to accept this as a reality.

His once pink flesh had turned a sallow grey with highlights of protruding veins _everywhere_. The eyes that were alight with rage only a few seconds ago were now motionless and empty.

I didn't like Lynley. He gave me no reason to care for him- but the sight of his dead body instilled a deep kind of sadness in me. I looked at the sky, but even that looked hazy to me. I was stuck, wide-eyed and unknowing how to react – after all, I had never seen anyone die before.

 _Not dead. He wasn't dead. This is a dream. No one died._

He must've seen me with the misery clear in my eyes, because the Doctor soon stood and made his way to my side.

I saw his converse on the stone and shift through hay, my gaze stuck to floor, away from the dead man who was just lying there. His steps were unfaltering, and for some reason, that scared me for an entirely new reason.

Where death was something so raw and so surreal and so odd for me to even consider, the Doctor was someone who barely blinked when it happened. How could my tiny, forgetful brain go about making that a reality in this dream?

I was torn from that thought when, without warning; the ancient man wrapped me into a hug like it was the most normal thing in the world for him.

I instantly tensed up; unbearably uncomfortable by touches I received from strangers.

Noticing my discomfort, the Doctor let me go and took me by my hand, leading me inside. If I had been looking at his face, I would have noticed that his eyes resembled deep wells of sorrow, unbeknownst to the fact that it wasn't caused by the unfortunate death.

* * *

 **"** I got you a room, Sir Doctor. You and Miss Fiona are just across the landing. Miss Jones has the room right across yours," Dolly Bailey told us, leaving quickly before I had a chance to interject.

I didn't want to stay in a room with the Doctor, all by myself.

 _Although, it was the perfect opportunity to get the answers I was looking for._

I conceded, accepting that it needed to be done. And the Doctor was clever - not that he needed any reminding of the fact - so that little scheme with him appointing me role of 'the consort' would've been a pre-thought decision for us to talk now.

 **"** Poor Lynley. So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?" Shakespeare inquired, admiringly to Martha.

The air had taken on a sombre tone, but with the roaring fireplace and the wisened looks on our faces, one could have easily mistaken it for a session of sharing stories round a campfire.  
 **  
**"Where a woman can do what she likes," She shot back, defiantly.

 _Oh, what a babe_. Even with the air all thick and serious, I managed a small smile at that.

Oh yes, I always knew Martha Jones was a star. I had always been fond of all the doctors' companions. They all helped him so much over his long life, and even if they did all leave him in the end, he'd never be who he was now by excluding a single one of them.  
 **  
**"And you, Sir Doctor. How can a man so young have eyes so old?" Shakespeare asked dazedly, like he was desperately trying to uncover a great mystery with his eyes alone.

 **"** I do a lot of reading," The Doctor's words were guarded, keeping up the mystery.

"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do." He nodded his head acceptingly. "And you, Miss Fiona? You're eyes are drowning in confusion. So much so that it's dizzying to look into them. You're very far from where you belong, aren't you?" He added, his words filled with meaning as he looked at me intently.

My reply consisted of a quick shrug with me averting my eyes away from his intense gaze.

 _I had only been here an hour, how the hell should I have known?_

"I'm constantly confused. It's one of my many charms," I said vaguely.  
 _  
_"Charming indeed," He chuckled lightly before he smiled knowingly. Did he know? He sure acted like he did.

"And you, you look at them like you're surprised they exist. Or maybe that's another emotion entirely..." He added, turning his attentions to Martha. "They're as much of a puzzle to you as they are to me."  
 **  
**"I think I'll say good night." Martha ended quickly, blushing at the information Shakespeare had given away and hoping that the Doctor wouldn't think much of it. She ascended the stairs, leaving to find her room.

 **"** I must work. I have a play to complete. But I'll get my answers tomorrow, Doctor, and I'll discover more about you and this constant performance of yours," Shakespeare decided, determinedly.

"All the world's a stage," The Doctor commented almost sleepily, placing his hand on the small of my back, over the trench coat I was still wearing, and leading me to the door.

 **"** Hm, I might use that. Good night, Doctor," Shakespeare bid him farewell before taking my hand and placing a kiss on the back of it.

"Sleep well, Miss Fiona. If your Doctor serves to be of no use to you, you do know where my room is," He winked, practically purring at me.

Turning a deep shade of red, all I did was awkwardly laugh, tripping over a response. My laughs turned far more genuine when I noticed the disarray on the Doctor's face and how he immediately tried to pry me from the room.

Noticing that the Doctor wasn't going to finish with his famous line, I decided to step in.

"While I'm sure it won't come to that, I'll keep that interesting prospect in mind. Nighty-night, Shakespeare," I ended as we left, with a final huff of annoyance from the Doctor and a couple more laughs from the infamous playwright himself.

* * *

 **Afterword: Welcome to the bottom of the page, once again. I honestly have no idea how I'm doing so far, but with the amount of people supporting this story, I must be doing something right (I hope!). Though please let me know if you guys notice any inconsistencies, either in grammar, which tense I'm using or even if the style changes overall. I noticed that some of the best fanfic's here tend to have good/immersive/detailed descriptions of the environment and character details, so I plan to flesh out those parts more in the future. Till next time, folks.**


	3. Chapter 3 - Baby Steps

**Will We Meet Again?**

 **Chapter 3. Baby Steps**

* * *

 **A/N: Oh. My. Lord... _Artemis Sherwood left a comment on this story._ You guys - This is way too cool. Artemis, if you're reading this, thank you. Your stories are my absolute favourite and I really appreciated your response. The heart in your stories really inspired me to give writing a whirl, so thanks for being so immensely inspirational. In fact, thank you to all the people who are taking time out of their lives to read this, it means a lot. **

**Also, sorry for the late updates, I got sick and unlike some superhuman people, I cease to function with a fever. Anywho, let's get to the story!**

* * *

 ** _Entry no. 2_**

 _Solivagant_

(agj.) Someone who wanders alone.

 _Even if it is not always by choice._

* * *

Entering the small room, I begun to take in the details that weren't given much attention in the original episode.

First off, it definitely wasn't as cramped as they made it out to be on the show. I felt my anxiety start to lessen a bit before I looked over at the bed. _Never mind then_ , I added, realising how dwarfed the bed was in comparison to everything else.

"Definitely cosy, isn't it?" I started, trying to expel the awkward tension that I wasn't sure he could feel as strongly as I did. I found a candle by the wooden cupboard near the door and immediately got to work, trying to busy myself.

"Oh, it'll do. We've seen worse," He replied, nonchalantly before he seemed to realise what he had implied. He seemed to recoil slightly as he looked at me slowly and sheepishly.

"Have we?" I questioned quizzically, my full attention on him, not angry but no longer amused either. "All night you've been saying the strangest things about me. Like you've known me for years."

Even though I phrased my thought like a sentence, he correctly guessed that I wanted answers.

I still believed that this was all a dream – how could I not?

Therefore, I knew that nothing he said would affect me too thoroughly – since a dream just feeds you whatever nonsense it can make up, as long as it can progress normally.

I was just asking, because whenever I began to feel anxious and unsure of myself, as I did now, concrete answers would help ground me. Asking the Doctor questions and having him give me whatever make-believe answer, would just help me feel better.

"Right- About that – Guess I've got all night to explain then," The man floundered for a hot second smiling jovially. Even though he was grinning, I could tell he was anxious with the way he bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet, occasionally reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

Man, the air in here was unbearable.

There was little to no noise outside, what with it being so late. And so, because of that, I could hear in painstaking clarity, everything that was happening in the little space we were sharing. The Doctor's small sighs and ruffly hair noises sounded so close, and even though a good five feet were separating us, the tightness in the air made it feel like he was pressed to my back.

I shook my head, trying to ignore it.

"Alrighty then, first question– You know me? How?" I questioned, searching his face intently to make sure he wasn't lying or leaving out important details.

"That was two questions," He smiled cheekily out-the-corner of his eye at me.

Annoyed now, I made a noise akin to someone's disappointed gran, shooting him a look. "Now's no time to be a smartass, Doc."

I almost faltered with my words. Almost.

I had no earthly idea where I was getting all this confidence from. The quiet little life I was leading in San Francisco meant that I could go days without really talking to anyone, except for trivial bits of small talk.

It all made me so used to not getting close to people – hell; I didn't even know if I remembered how. I was not charismatic. I was not loud. I was in no way like the unflappable persona I had seemed to have taken on in this dream. But that wasn't going to stop me now.

Noticing my irritation, the Doctor sobered up and turned to look me in the eye. "I've known you, Fiona Moore. Longer than anyone."

 _As mysterious as ever._

Uncomfortable with the all-knowing look in his eyes, I averted my gaze to the ceiling exasperatedly, "That isn't a clear answer, you know? Aren't you supposed to be Mr. Clever?"

"I _am_ Mr. Clever." He shot back with a proud look in his eye – if I didn't know any better, it seemed like traces of his future self were bleeding into the stick-man before me. I eyed him, feigning disappointment.

"And yet you're incapable of providing a proper explanation to a simple question," I concluded my analysis with feigned scrutiny. "I think you're a hack."

He snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Well, don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold," He drawled on before flopping onto the bed and patting the spot next to him," C'mon, best make yourself comfortable. Can't stand there all night, can you?"

I stared down my nose at him, resisting the urge to sniff at him distastefully. I don't care if I was being difficult – so was he. I just wanted some goddamn answers.

He met my gaze unflinchingly for a good minute before he sighed, apparently giving up. "If you settle down, I'll tell you what you want to know."

He once again patted the spot next to him, pursing his lips and looking like a man who'd been cheated out of his money. Almost like he'd read my curious thoughts on why he caved in, he mumbled, "You've got to be tired, you're still human."

Clutching tightly at his trench-coat that I was still wearing, I timidly pattered my way over to the bed and lied down on the creaky bed beside him. I took the thing off and laid it onto the bed like a blanket.

As much as I tried not to, I couldn't help but notice the complete change in his demeanour from what it was in the episode. On the show, he was doing his best to avoid Martha and not take her into account since he was so torn up over Rose.

He had been so cold then – reserved and an overall prick. He was unlike himself.

But now, he was beaming away at me, looking ecstatic even though we were just lying down beside each other.

"So, you were getting to the part about knowing me?" I broke the silence, nervously making eye contact.

"Hm? Oh right! Yes, let's see where to start," He jumped, as if my voice had broken him out of a trance of some sort.

His face seemed to morph into an amalgamation of different emotions. He seemed equal parts worried as he did serious. "Ok, I know that this will be difficult to understand and come to terms with-"

 _Great start,_ I thought wryly – not even daring to interrupt him. The long nails of my fingers were digging into the flesh of my palms. I was squeezing so hard that I'm sure they'd leave marks – but the pain was a welcome distraction.

"Fiona, something- or someone brought you to me. To this world. I'm not sure who – or what, but this isn't a dream. In this world you travel to different points in my life," He ended, his face conveying the utmost gravity.

I guess it's not much of an understatement to say that the barked laughter I let out was totally jarring in contrast to the stillness in the room as well as the grim expression the Doctor had donned. He seemed to flinch in surprise as my laughter died down into a teasing grin.

"Oh yeah, and what's next then? When I go to bed tomorrow, will I team up with Sherlock and John, skirting around 221B Baker Street, solving crimes? Or no, let me guess... I'll help Sam and Dean Winchester hunt spooky scary ghosties and drive around in their Impala."

I poked him in the ribs, hiccupping from the bout of sudden laughter. The Doctor just looked at me like I was mad, even though a twinkle in his eye suggested he was glad to see me so amused.

"Fine, don't believe me. You will sooner or later," He mumbled like a grumpy old man. "Can we please get back to the topic at hand?" He added, sighing in exasperation.

Composing myself, I looked up at him. I remembered what Martha had said to him during this scene and how it was important for him to have the same discussion with me, since she wasn't here. "Right, sorry. So, magic and stuff? That's a surprise. It's a lot like 'Harry Potter', isn't it?"

I almost cringed at myself. I suppose I needed to work on my acting chops if I wanted to make it sound like I wasn't reading directly from a script – or at least reciting playback of what I remembered. The Doctor however, completely glossed over the stiltedness in my voice.

"Wait till you read Book Seven. Oh, I cried," He spoke reminiscently, clasping his hands on the front of his hands. "Though, knowing you, you probably own a dozen signed copies."

"It's to be expected when you own a bookshop, guy," I said with a snort, before my face scrunched up sadly, "But yes, my heart broke the second I realised there'd never be another book."

"Just you wait," He looked up at me with a grin, tapping his nose. "I'll take you to see the film adaptation, a year late than around where you come from."

As much as I could've continued talking about Harry Potter for hours into the morning, I knew that the Doctor had a course he needed to be set on.

"But what do you think? I mean, witches, black magic and all that, do you think it's real?" I added with a challenging look in my eyes.

"'Course I don't!" He responded smugly, crossing his arms and pouting like proud six-year old. He stared straight ahead, almost like he was on the verge of disappearing into his own head. "Looks like witchcraft, but it isn't. Can't be."

"Good job. For a second there, I thought you had lost your touch," I said back, giggling as he rolled his eyes, trying to suppress the smile that was highlighting the corners of his mouth. Well, at least now he was looking at me and not the drilling holes into the ceiling with his eyes. "It's always aliens. Like seriously, always."

"It is isn't it? There's such a thing as psychic energy but a human couldn't channel it like that. Not without a generator the size of Taunton and I think we'd have spotted that. No. There's something I'm missing, Moore. Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it," He stated obliviously, looking into my face as if the answers would be there waiting for him.

He turned to his side, facing me, while I was leaning my cheek on a propped arm – looking down at him. "You would know. If this wasn't your first time here– with me. If you didn't think this was a dream, you'd know exactly what to say to me."

The change of line stunned me and I was at a loss for what to think. He was meant to say that about Rose. For him, it was always about Rose. Especially now. I couldn't even imagine what could have happened to make it so he didn't look remotely fazed by her loss in the moment. Composing myself so that I didn't look like a blubbering fish anymore, I responded.

"How would I know? I was just as surprised as you were. I mean, _actual_ magic in the 15th century? Who could've guessed?" I replied nonchalantly, doing my best to mask the truth.

I wouldn't know how he would react if he knew I could tell what would happen in his future.

I'd imagine it would be like a flipped switch – he would become angry and mistrustful – just like he had been with River. The thought honestly scared me. To be able to make someone like the Doctor, who was so accepting and trusting with most people, into an enemy.

Looking down at the soft expression he was wearing now, I realised that I didn't want that to go away. With the small amount of time I felt like I had left in this dream, I didn't want him to be mad at me for the last remaining few.

"It's never a surprise for you though, is it? You know everything. Past, present and future. Wellll... _my_ past, present and future." He drawled on sheepishly, before adding, "Almost everything. Only what that show of yours has shown you."

My heart leapt to my throat – _he knew._ But he wasn't angry?

"You know that I know?" I asked him with wide eyes. "And you're not mad that I didn't tell you about Lynley?" A wave of guilt swept over me as I thought about the unfortunate man. I didn't want Lynley to die- I just couldn't remember his death with what a crazy position I was in. I guess 'living in the moment' wasn't always the best course of action.

Chuckling slightly with tired, half-lidded eyes, he spoke soft, "I couldn't be mad at you. Well, never for too long anyway. And also, I don't expect anything like that from you. As you've probably guessed, changing things that aren't meant to be changed can create problems. Essentially, time's confusing like that."

"Normally, you try to save as many people as you can. You even get yourself into trouble when you do," He added as though he were annoyed with that. His expression softened. "Though, you can't help it. You're human. You're indomitable. You stare danger in the face and find things more important than the fear you feel – You care about people more than anyone I've met."

"But you still think this is a dream. You don't– you _can't_ care yet. About them – about me."

The more he talked, the more I found my arm drooping to a point where we were both facing each other on the cramped bed.

Have you ever seen brown eyes in the sun, or in my case, when they're being illuminated by candle-light? You don't always notice at first, but 'brown' no longer describes them. They melt. They turn into golden rays, circling an eclipse. His eyes seemed to turn into clear puddles that reflected a sunset.

I was studying his eyes so intently, that I didn't mind or register how close our faces were to each other.

"You're so real. I didn't even know you had freckles," I breathed out in a voice barely above a whisper, my tone laced with disbelief.

I fought the urge to raise my hand and lightly trace lines to connect the dots on his cheek. _Little_ _constellations,_ I thought in an oddly fond way. I suppose there were things that a camera and a screen never could capture.

 _And 'sides, this was a dream. I didn't have to think about being too close for comfort._

"Why is it like you haven't seen me in years?" I questioned softly, curiously, more intrigued than anything.

I watched his dreamy face contort into one of sorrow as he leaned into the pillow. His face was so close, I felt static from where our foreheads were almost touching.

That was the first time I had seen him honestly express his underlying grief, all night. Even generally, for this Doctor to openly show grief was beyond normal.

"It's because I haven't seen you in years. Something happened– I lost you when I wasn't supposed to," He spoke numbly, eyes glassy.

It was like a sudden weight was dropped on me before it was taken off. I had so many questions – I didn't know whether to be terrified for my life or sad that none of this was real and that it didn't matter anyway. I didn't know what to think, so I ignored the words he had just confessed.

In a daze, it was like my body was moving before my mind could put it in its place. I briefly registered my arm lifting from my side, crossing the distance between us and aiming to rest on his cheek – just to act as some sort of comfort, even though I was never really good at that. I didn't know what I was doing or why, but I did know that I couldn't let him be sad. It didn't feel right for him to be sad, even if he wasn't real.

And then, before my hand could land, I felt a sharp tug in my chest. My fingers curled mid-air as my whole body jerked upright. My vision had gone static again – the only details I could make out being traces of white mist. It took me a minute, but when my vision cleared I saw the Doctor, sitting up the same way I was with his hands hovering over my shoulders, uncertain what to do.

His face had turned solemn again, instead of the heart-breaking misery-swept one it had been before.

"You're leaving," He spoke in a detached sort of voice, eyes down-cast.

I made a logical guess and thought that this was me waking up. And yet, the tone in his voice broke my heart.

This had been such a weird position to be – to be standing right in front of him, to have his eyes look directly at mine, instead of the off-kiltered, cinematic angles I was so used to. That in itself made me feel like I knew him as so much more than just an image.

Even though I hadn't known him in person for long – I found myself wishing that I had more time with him.

I reached out, grabbing onto one of his hands and locking our fingers together. I had a hard time looking at him, both due to the pain of whatever light was causing this, but more so due to the unexpected rush of emotion I felt – realising I'd probably never have a dream like this again.

"Thank you for this," I said, my eyes unexpectedly glossy. I stared up at the ceiling, my throat constricting my words as I smiled, "Really, thank you. I never thought I'd get a chance to do anything like this. And I'm sorry you're sad, Doctor. I'm sorry for Rose. But you gave me the experience of a lifetime just with this, and I won't forget it."

As my vision started to blur around the sides, I looked into his eyes and hesitantly let go.

"I wish you the world and many adventures to come," I smiled at him, "Try not to get too down on yourself."

Just the day before, I had been so painfully aware of never having done anything – and while this wasn't a vacation in the Bahamas or a trip to France that you'd brag about to your grandkids in the future, it was enough to make my heart feel full.

The Doctor's face was so real, and just as long ago had he been looking forlorn, did he now look unwilling to see me go. The crease of sadness in his eyes was one that I'd only ever remembered seeing when he was close to dying, desperate to stay himself yet knowing he couldn't.

He was going to say something, but before he could even open his mouth to get a syllable out, I found that all the little details of his face that I had seen in such painstaking clarity before – were becoming less and less visible.

"Goodbye," I breathed.

The white light, similar to the intensity of the UFO beams from movies, felt like it was burning through my vision until all I could see was white noise.

The pain was back too, growing hotter and hotter by the second. I tried and acted on the fact that it wasn't as bad as the first time, by actually reaching out and trying to feel for something. _Anything_. The Doctor, who was only a foot away from me before, was nowhere to be found.

Absolute nothingness met my touch, and although I would have wanted to experiment more, an invisible grip beared down on me – making the pain increase tenfold.

And like that I was flung. I was being whisked away from the warmth of the bed and thrown into a vacuum of nothingness, waiting for what lied on the other side.

* * *

My eyes jolted open before I immediately shut them again. The searing headache was back, but the pain in my body was gone – that and there wasn't a trace of that stupid white glow.

 _Ok – that was good._ All signs pointed to the fact that it _was_ , after all, a drug-induced coma of some sort. Who knows, maybe some creep had spiked my coffee back at that cafe from yesterday.

The ground I was lying on was a hard glass, something I found only after I tried to move.

 _Ok – Not so good._ I grimaced, my face tight as I tried to keep any traces of worry at bay. The floor to my room in my apartment was a worn layer of wood, and even though I scrambled to think of places in the vicinity of home, I couldn't recall knowing of any that had flooring made of pure glass.

I felt like I was flinging my brain around every time I attempted to move, the pain making me groan miserably. I needed a minute to find out whose floor I was crashed on; however, my investigation was cut short when I briefly heard the scraping of shoes, followed by the feel of unfamiliar hands on my arms.

Everything was so _loud_. The sound of a stranger's voice, so blaring it was nothing but a harsh buzz. The sounds of whirring machinery, shifting gears of some sort – and what sounded like _alarms?_

Blood pounded in my ears and my fists were clenched so tight, I'm sure they appeared bony and stark white.

I couldn't move. I didn't _want_ to move. It hurt so bad.

Instead I tried to gage my surroundings by roving my eyes past the blurriness, striving to ignore the fact that the world looked like a video in really, _really_ low-quality.

I couldn't see much except for a suited chest that probably belonged to the two lanky-ish arms that were raising me off the floor. Aiming to catch a glimpse behind the stranger, I assessed enough of the place to realise that I was once again; somewhere I had never been before.

To say I was confused would've been quite the understatement. I should be awake by now – I felt awake, so where the hell else could I have been?

In the moment, it seemed that my unparalleled irritation with being in the dark had overpowered my paralysed state. With my muscles uncoiling like springs and the fog clearing from my mind, all I knew was that I didn't want to go through with this again. I regained control of my body, roughly pushing away at the figure that seemed to have been trying to support me.

The face I found was young. Much younger than the face I had been staring at, not any longer than five minutes ago. And yet all I could register was that I was still stuck in the same world – with the same man.

The shocked expression of the eleventh doctor was a sight just as jarring as seeing his previous incarnation for the first time. In fact, the déjà vu I felt was a great indicator of how we were in precariously similar situations – with him looking like a flustered puppy, and me – looking homicidal.

 _"What's going on?"_ My voice was blunt. Stone cold – a kind of darkness I'm sure was just as prominent in my eyes. Time for games was over.

I met the Doctor's eyes head on, looking at him like a stranger would. Not even a stranger, I thought. The malice in my face would have been unmistakable and I realised that; not even meeting my hero, who stood in front of me, could have prevented me from feeling so malevolent.

I knew, on the inside, I didn't feel half as much like the cold-blooded bitch I was trying to be. It felt like a defence mechanism at times – trying to act tougher than everyone knew I was. It was probably because of PTSD from when I was a kid – always being the smallest and scrawniest one at the dinner table. Regardless, it was the only thing remotely intimidating about me, and if it got me answers – then I couldn't give a damn about its moral rightness.

"I should have woken up by now," I murmured, half to myself.

The Doctor – standing tall in his tweed coat and black trousers seemed to be just as occupied in his own mind as I momentarily was in mine. His eyes flickered at a rate that guaranteed he wasn't anywhere close to human. In a short second of weakness, I was distracted by the colours that laced the depths of his eyes.

 _How peculiar._ He had some of the strangest eyes I had ever seen. I couldn't determine if they were hazel and honeyed, or if they were a pale green – like Scottish thistles. There was intelligence there too – why hadn't I noticed with the last version of him?

"Right," He started, his tone conversational. "Pyjamas; check, no shoes; check that, confused and angry; check! This must be right after Shakespeare, then?"

The sound of his speech coming to a halt seemed to snap me out of my thoughts. He seemed to babble on nervously, at a speed faster than light.

Receiving nothing but my silence for a response, he exhaled slightly and straightened his red bow-tie – an action I, at any other given time, would have found endearing. His demeanour changed as he hesitantly attempted to tread towards me, arms raised in a calming gesture. "Sit down Fiona, please? Sit down and I'll tell you everything you want to know."

I gave him a once over. His eyebrows were tilted down as he seemed so approach me like I were a wounded deer. Nothing about my sharp demeanour deterred him, even though I could see the spark of something cross his face every time I fixed him with a glare. Overall, despite my attempts, he seemed genuine.

"Before I do, enlighten me on two things, will you?" My eyes rooted him to the spot. I hardly waited for his confirmation before I pressed on, "One, this isn't a dream, is it? And two, is there any earthly way you could take me home and we could forget this ever happened?"

My words seemed to have dejected him greatly, but he kept his head up with a youthful spryness, "Ah. Well, um, yes to the first one." His eyes fell to his feet as he seemed to finally see the gravity of the situation – his voice turned uncharacteristically leaden, "And no. There are reasons keeping you tethered to the TARDIS and to my lifetime. The white light would bring you back even if you did leave."

I felt my eyes burn, but I stared at him blankly before I looked at him understandingly. I slowly turned to nod my head at him – smiling a lopsided smile, "Right. You're right. Well I suppose-"

And without missing a beat, I had taken off into a sprint somewhere to my right. The old 'leave 'em & weep' never failed to do its job – which in my case, was to use the element of surprise to make an escape. I knew I was successful when I didn't hear him scuffle after me a good minute after I had taken off.

Trying to ignore the Doctor, who was calling out hopelessly to me, I began gauging my surroundings – knowing full and well that I needed a quick getaway. In the corner peripheral of my eye, I caught sight of a spindly staircase that just seemed to apparate out of nothing _. I was finding a way out of this mess if it was the last thing I did._

I practically flew up the stairs, my mind on some kind of adrenaline high. When I got to the very top of the staircase, three very identical looking corridors sat, waiting for me to make a move and mocking me with their semblance.

 _Well shit._

Not taking the time to stay still and strategise, I let luck guide me – following the corridor on the far right.

I could hear the Doctor call after me as I kept running; surely following to make sure I didn't get into a mess. Sooner or later, his panicked voice became vaguer and more of a blur – the deeper and deeper I traversed through the labyrinthine lot of hallways. The way they looked was different from the version I had woken up to before. Where Ten's TARDIS was warm copper and dirty gold embellishments, Eleven's TARDIS was neon oranges and cool metal. The lengths I was travelling through were hexagonal in shape, with abstract steel fixtures lining the way.

I didn't want to think about it. I _really_ didn't want to. But the guilt creeping up my spine at the complete absence of the Doctor's voice was severely messing with my expedition. _He wasn't going to help me get home,_ I tried justifying myself.

 _He wanted to sit and talk – but I wanted action._ Besides, what he said about me being trapped; there wasn't a single reason why I could have believed him. Rule number one, as River Song had always reminded me through the screen – the Doctor _always_ lies.

Dispelling my thoughts of him, I realised I needed to have a clear head if I was going to get anything done. I hadn't set out with a clear goal in mind, but I was sure that the harder I looked – I'd eventually find a backdoor that got me out. I'm sure, in all it's size, it had to have a teleport somewhere.

The lights were flickering in a way that seemed like someone or something was trying to get my attention.

The thought reminded me of how, sometimes, Jackson would try and get my attention by switching the lights on and off whenever I was too far gone with a book.

I heard a deep, questioning hum rumble through the silver floorboards and was instantly reminded of one major plot point. The TARDIS _was_ alive – How could I have forgotten?

 _Oh right, because the last time I checked, it wasn't really commonplace for ships to be sentient._

Slowing my steps from their fast tempo, I somehow knew that I was in the TARDIS's metaphorical hands. I walked with my fingers trailing alongside the smooth wall, looking to it for some kind of support. "Thanks, old girl. For helping me get away. Also, I hope it's alright I called you that."

I felt a bit nervous, knowing that she had just witnessed that entire debacle with the Doctor – And yet I couldn't keep the awe off my face as the walls vibrated and hummed pleasantly from under my hand.

I was suddenly struck with an idea.

"C-could you, by any chance, show me how to get out of here?" I pleaded to the ceiling. The sound of my voice seemed so ear-splitting in the silence. I sighed deeply, filling my lungs with all the air I could collect. "I just want to go home. To my family."

It stayed quiet for what seemed like an eternity before I heard the soft 'beep-boops' of confirmation. I shook with relief before patting the wall beside me with what felt like the most gratitude I had felt in a while. "Thanks, dear." And with a new sense of hope, I continued my way down the passageways she was laying out for me.

My feet were terribly sore after excavating pathway after pathway, but by the time I reached the first door I had seen so far, all my thoughts were fixated on the beautiful exterior.

What looked like old Gaelic carving patterns, were delicately etched into the mahogany door. The spiralling patterns winded around the four sides of the door, inked with silver and depicting animals that resembled wolves at each corner. As I was tracing the lines with the nail of my thumb, I felt like I just _had_ to go in. Even though all the old housewife tales warned children of entering through strange doorways, lest they be kidnapped by some fairy or ghoul – I felt the itching need of wanting to see whatever was lying on the other side.

A cold gust of air emanated from the cracked entrance of the door – only getting bigger the more I twisted and pushed on the brass door handle. A feeling, so similar to the one you'd get when you were reunited with the place you felt safest – it seemed to barrage all my senses. The feeling you'd get when you were home.

Well I suppose _that_ made sense, since laid out before me was a very familiar sight.

It was my room, just how I had left it.

The shabby paintjob that gave way to exposed brick, the chestnut floorboards – even the four poster bed, with pillars that resembled the branches of a tree, was placed at the end of the room, paralleling the door as it always had.

I gave a soft cry of surprise when I passed the threshold, absently bringing the door to a close behind me. It really _was_ all a dream. I was still where I belonged.

I almost crumpled to the floor – my legs feeling quite similar to jello. I dropped the leather satchel I had been carrying with me the whole time, back in its usual spot by the door. I crossed the creaky floor and fell back onto the springy mattress and soft sheets, letting my hair pool out around me like a protective halo.

I allowed myself a brief moment of relaxation before peering to the side – the sunlight peeking through the shut blinds telling me that it was already well into the morning.

 _Crap_. I had probably passed out on some kind of drug I hadn't remembered taking – which explained the 'dream' far better than I cared to admit.

Regardless, I was late. I had to go and pick up Jackson from the neighbours'. The kid was probably worried shitless. After I did that, I'd have to get ready for work, leave a glass of water and some aspirin for the beldam, and continue living like nothing weird involving strange, time-travelling men had ever happened.

Sighing in the discouraged yet accepting way I always did when I was faced with a day full of work; I picked myself up, ready to head out the door. I twisted the plaster doorknob tightly, already assembling a to-do list for the day –when I felt my heart drop into my stomach.

A metal hallway. A _familiar_ metal hallway.

 _No_.

 _This couldn't be happening._

I stumbled back, roughly slamming the door with wide-eyes. Once again, I pulled it open desperately.

 _The same thing._ I heard the whirring of machinery practically seep into the normal walls of my rooms. My brain was going into hysterics – _No. No. No. No. No._ – I was repeating the word to myself like a mantra. As if I could make it all go away through sheer denial.

I pawed at my eyes viciously, even thumping my forehead roughly into the mahogany back of the door – It wasn't changing. _Why_ wasn't it changing?

The curtains that hung on the wall had clearly shown me sunlight a minute ago, and I didn't recall the TARDIS ever having windows.

 _Wait a minute... windows?_

I felt a sprig of childlike hope, like the kind you'd get when you rushed into the arms of a loved one at the end of a bad day. Racing to the curtain-concealed fixtures on the wall, I threw back the white drapes.

Except that the view didn't resemble the one I had at home. Thick, frosted glass with no openings, allowed nothing but warm sunlight to pour through. There was nothing to be seen.

I could feel the heat, practically _smell_ the humidity. There was a garden that sat on the other side, I just knew it. And yet the milky fog of the glass obscured everything but the light.

I banged on the pane with my fist.

 _Once._

 _Twice._

 _Harder._

My punches became faster and stronger. I just had to get to the other side.

To see the familiar garden from my childhood. This time of the year, it'd be littered with marigold bushes and blanketed in soft sunlight – the delicate spring air trickling my nose.

My mother would be there, much younger and without the smell of whiskey seeping off of her. She'd be smiling toothily at me as she watered the flowers.

I screamed. I punched. My fists were torn out of their frenzied haze when I picked up the vase on the side-table and hurled it at the unperturbed window.

Nothing.

I hadn't done an ounce of damage to the blasted hunk of glass that seemed to mock me without even moving. Not even a scratch.

My heart shattered anew as the last speck of hope I didn't realise I was carrying, was snuffed out. I never let anyone see me cry. Never. Showing emotion meant showing weakness; and I was not letting anyone see me in my most vulnerable state. My mother was the only person I had ever let seen me like that- never Jackson, the kid looked up to me after all, and I didn't want him seeing me as the mess I really was. And so, as I sat there, curled up into a ball in my room that wasn't really _my_ room, I felt a surge of emotion begin to hit me.

"N-none of this m-makes any _sense!"_ I hissed sharply in between hiccups, trying pointlessly to keep the waterworks at bay.

Feeling hot tears begin to roll down my face, I felt the burning sting of embarrassment at exposing that side of myself in presence of the TARDIS. _She's just as intelligent and real as anyone, if not more so,_ I thought ashamedly.

But there was nothing. No buzz or hum. Almost like she wasn't even there.

It was a possibility that she couldn't actually _see_ me when I was in here, unless she was turning a blind eye to my little episode – giving me the space I needed.

The tears hadn't stopped, and with a new sense of privacy, I recognized the need to let it all out. I ambled over and sat on the bed. It felt new and untouched, completely unlike the worn-out mattress at home.

 _It looked the part but it didn't feel like home_.

The air in the fake room was empty and synthetic, like Styrofoam. It was missing the familiar hints of ocean salt and tire exhaust that'd waft through the windows when I'd creak them open at night. It never seemed like much at the time, but now I felt like I'd give an arm just for everything to be the same.

Curling in on myself, I allowed myself to feel everything a girl could possibly feel when she lost everything. I stayed there, sobbing and grieving until light began to fade from the room and my eyes began to waver, heavy, like the weight of the world was resting on them.

For the briefest of moments, as I drifted to sleep, I felt like I could hear the distant hum of cars on the highway, the soft clinking of dishes that were being cleaned, and finally, Jackson scrawling with his crayons right outside the door. With the smallest of smiles, I was lulled into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

 **Afterword: Whoa! Things are getting antsy, aren't they? I hope I'm making the characters as true to themselves as possible. I know the Doc was kinda weird and sentimental at the start, but I think that he would be if he had lost someone 'special' only to have found them again (I mean look how adorable he was with Rose in 'The Stolen Earth' & 'Journey's End'). **

**Also I hope that my OC is tolerable. I hope I'm not making her too 'sobstory-esqe' or too mean (that part will die down), since I wanted to portray how someone would react in this scenario if they actually _did_ have a precious life to leave behind. I'm not going to make her journey all sunshine and happycakes, since I feel like the Doctor and Fiona need to work through things to understand each other. If any of that sounds appealing, then strap yourselves in because, as the ninth Doctor once said, "I'm full of ideas, I'm bristling with them."**

 **P.S. You have no idea how hard I had to refrain from typing "knees weak, arms spaghetti" after the part about her eyes being heavy.**


	4. Chapter 4 - Coming to terms

**Will We Meet Again?**

 **Chapter 4. Coming to terms**

* * *

 **A/N: Hello once again, readers. I greatly apologize for slow updates, but like many writers, I've been taking time to become motivated for this story. With no proper schedule for when I update, I feel that I have the time I need to get you guys a good chapter without stressing.**

 **I can let you know that if the OC seems unappealing right now, know that she's still growing and dealing with the unfortunate hand she's been served. Give her time and I'm sure she'll turn out to be a very fleshed out character.**

 **Thanks again for reading!**

* * *

 ** _Entry no. 3_**

 _Abience_

(n.) the strong urge to avoid someone or something.

 _Even if it's just to forget._

* * *

"You're a sly fox, you know that?" I huffed, narrowing my eyes at the ceiling.

A resounding hum, laced with mischief, was all I got in return.

The TARDIS had taken to moving the hallways around – breaking me out of the little survival regimen I was trying to set for myself. All I wanted to do was find a kitchen or a pantry, but it seemed like this was her way of punishing me for not having the balls to do anything but hide.

I had spent the next few hours, after I ran from the Doctor, curled up in a ball underneath the soft velvet sheets of my new bed.

For the first time in my life, I was alone. A huddled heap of matted hair and bloodshot eyes, I sat alone – utterly terrified in the darkness. It was like the dark was slowly eating away at my thoughts. My mother wasn't there to soothe my fears, and neither was Jackson to tell me stories through his drawings. It was just me, alone in a strange place with strange people.

It had been hours. Or at least it _felt_ like hours. There was no way for me to tell really, trapped in the confining walls of the room. There were no clocks anywhere – even the time displayed on the screen of my phone seemed to bug out, numbers constantly switching back and forth to opposing answers. My phone was practically useless now anyway - without a wifi connection to be found and no apparent way to call anyone up here in space, I struggled to do anything but waste time on mind-numbing games I'd installed years ago.

I didn't know whether this loss of tech had the potential to be freeing or inversely maddening. I hadn't been around long enough to find out.

The only indicator of night and day seemed to be the feint lighting that shone through the window of my room. Although I wouldn't really know – ever since the first hour I spent in the room, the window was the only thing I wouldn't look at. It was the only thing there that _really_ bummed me out – like a mirage, I knew if I kept looking at it, I'd spend the rest of my life trying and failing to find signs of life behind the foggy glass.

Instead of lamenting over it, I would follow a pattern instead, anything to get my mind off everything. I'd spend an eternity riling myself up and getting motivated to face-off against the time-lord I had left behind. Secondly, walking over to the door and engaging in an intense stare-off with the inanimate barrier.

And lastly, giving up to return to the safety of my thoughts.

As much as I hated to admit it, I was afraid. I didn't want to move forward if it meant what I thought it meant. The TARDIS was infinite – I was just one of the many small spaces that made up the ship. I was ok with this grey area I had, hidden away from everything.

But if I went out there, demanding a result that he could never give me – and knowing for absolutely certain that I could never get home...

 _I don't know what that would do to me._

* * *

I had taken nicely to a guitar I had found stuffed inside the wardrobe of the bedroom. I'd been excavating all the crevices and cabinets I could find to stave off boredom, because even though I felt like I didn't belong here – I knew that the TARDIS lured me to it for a reason.

Heck, it was an exact replica my room – I didn't think it was too much of a stretch to believe that it was meant for me.

The wardrobe was filled to the brim with clothes that were just like what I would wear on a daily basis. It was then, against the vibrant lights of the TARDIS, that I realised how much I really dressed like a ninja. Almost everything in the closet looked like it belonged to a younger, less graceful Morticia Addams – The rack being mostly clad in stark black clothes. A more 'dressed-up' emo was a great title for this aesthetic.

Back home, I could never go anywhere without my ink black combat boots that were a size too big for me. My feet were already small enough to make me look like a child, so having the option of looking more badass helped.

Unfortunately, getting here in my PJ's meant I had left them back at the foot of my real bed – much to my dismay. The closet had shoes that would be fine for now, but I honestly just wanted my own things back.

Oddly enough, among all the things that felt plastic-y and untouched in the room, the Fender guitar I had found was the only thing familiar enough to make me sigh in remembrance.

The guitar looked just like the one I had owned back home, except that unlike the chipped, worn amber wood that made the base of my old guitar, this one was smooth and brand new.

My mother had gifted it to me on Christmas day when I was about seven – even though we were without much money at the time. Jackson wasn't even born yet, and my father – who I didn't know very well – was off on one of his many 'adventures' around the world.

My mum had retold the story of how she got it, only once, before we had moved to the states – and even so, the story was difficult to get out of her. 2007 had been a tough year on her. Back when she actually tried, she had to work two jobs because of how tight the money was, and practically being a single parent didn't make things any easier. Dad would only come visit once in a blue moon, if I remembered correctly. When he did, he'd share with us his earnings from all the odd jobs he'd do – working as an architect, dabbling in being a sailor, even trying his hand being a treasure hunter – only to leave shortly after, leaving us to take of ourselves once again. That's the truth I had heard as a kid – but looking at it now, as a semi-adult, I couldn't help but doubt the validity of his words.

Anyway, with Christmas just around the corner, Mom had recounted how she had looked over her books and felt ill. She simply couldn't afford to get any proper gifts that year, and it broke her heart, especially because of how much I loved the idea of Christmas.

We weren't particularly religious, not really belonging to any one religion in the first place. My mother's parents were devout Muslims that had shunned their daughter the minute she had eloped with a white, catholic man. However, her lack of regret in the moment, when my mother had told me, was something that taught me to always follow what _I_ wanted and not blindly give in to the desires of others.

Regardless of that, Christmas just seemed like a universal time of happiness; something we felt we really needed during that time in our lives. I was terribly excited since I kept getting my hopes up that year, saying how much I wished it would snow. Mom had stayed up late that Christmas night, worrying all over the idea of how disappointed I would be once morning came. She had woken up early that day and stared sadly at the empty space beneath the tree...

Before she heard a knock at the door.

She opened the door with a baseball bat at the ready, since she wasn't a fool and it was very late on the estate after all. There was nothing there except a slightly used guitar with a note attached.

 _'She's going to be fantastic. Merry Christmas.'  
_  
It read in messy, loopy handwriting. Normally she'd be worried about weirdo's and stalkers but that night – That night it was Christmas Eve and my mother knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. So she quietly hauled it inside, careful not to accidentally touch any of the strings. It was then, in the morning when she was awoken by loud, musical strumming accompanied by squeals and shrieks of delight, did she take a moment to say a silent thank you to whomever had helped her.

The kind strangers' actions had partially inspired my undying faith in people, letting me know that no matter how dark of a place the world could get, you could never truly snub out the compassion of human beings.

Since then, I tried my best to master the guitar and even though I got quite good after years of hard work and practice, I could still fumble if I wasn't concentrating hard enough.

Throughout the time I spent cooped up by myself, the TARDIS turned out to be quite the companion to me. I was right when I figured that she couldn't follow me into the safe confines of my room – for some reason, she was blocked from entering. This restriction however, didn't stop her from helping me out when I had to avoid the Doctor, moving corridors so that I could easily creep to the kitchen without running into him.

 _The Doctor_. I had done my best to handle the situation without thinking of him, which was kind of like scrapping 90% of the whole crazy ordeal.

I wished I could say I was indifferent when I heard far-off shouts, calling for me – But all that registered was; he was actually _looking_ for me.

I would've thought he didn't care – that he was as indifferent to me as I wanted to be with him. He probably had a hell of a lot to do, being a freaking time-lord after all. When I ran, I figured that he'd just wait me out – like a grown-up waiting for a kid who they can't find during a game of hide and seek.

Knowing that he was _actually_ looking for someone as cowardly as me – it just added to the guilt.

It was then, as I was sitting upside down on the armchair, propping my legs to rest on the part where your back goes – did I hear the static of a television. It was a small, cubed box – heavy and clunky that sat in the corner of the room. I had saved some extra cash to get it so that Jackson and I could watch those cartoons he loved – but just like everything else in the fake-room, it worked ten times better than the one at home.

The flashing gave way to show me the alien I had just been thinking of. The visual had the Doctor sitting crouched in the middle of a corridor with his arms propped on his knees. He was breathing heavily, as though he had just run a mile.

I couldn't look away, my heart squeezing at the sight of him. Lines of worry were stitched into his face, making him look much older than he seemed. His eyes were clamped shut as if he was thinking deeply over what to do. I didn't even notice how I had placed a hand on the screen – as if to console him. This was surely the TARDIS's very own form of revenge, making me realise what a piece of trash I was being. She obviously cared deeply for her thief.

I looked back at the screen. _Damn, he must really care._ A large part of me berated myself for letting this go on for so long.

 _What should I do?_

I was taught young how to be stone-cold and self-reliant, to hold myself high and poised even if I didn't mean it. I learnt early on to cry behind closed doors, with the lights off – to never ask for help.

I could snub someone out in a heartbeat, after all; what did it matter? Strangers came and left – I didn't _need_ them. All I wanted was my family and the characters I considered family through pages of paper.

It would be so easy. To ignore the Timelord. To spend the rest of my life living in a cheap imitation of where I once belonged. The TARDIS had everything I could ever need as long as I didn't think too hard about it.

It would be _so_ easy.

"Shit." I cursed under my breath.

I felt my resolve break as I moved swiftly to the door. The second the door was open, I looked up to address the patient ship. "Take me to him, please."

I left the room I had gotten well-acquainted with in the past... however long, padding softly but quickly along the stretches of corridor before I came across him.

He was in the same position I had seen on the screen, as I walked up beside him. Before I could get all the way to him, his eyes darted open as his head whipped over to me. He seemed just as surprised by my arrival as I was of how he essentially put his life on hold to look for me.

"You-um...uh..." He looked mortified as he fumbled for words, yet kept tripping over what to say. I let a small huff of amusement slip when I felt the corners of my mouth turn up.

To think, the great 'Oncoming Storm' with all his fancy titles and centuries of life experience could be rendered speechless by an out-of-sorts teenage girl.

"Hi." My voice put an end to his scrambling. The word was barely above a whisper as I momentarily forgot the strife I had been dealing with for the past twenty-four hours. My smile turned a tad forced when I realised how I was, once again, face-to-face with this _alien_. Coming to terms with the fact that he wasn't a dream definitely made him more intimidating.

"Hi," he echoed, still seemingly dazed by my presence. He adjusted his signature red bow-tie quickly and swept a hand across his floppy chocolate brown hair, watching as I took a seat next to him on the floor.

We sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the cold, metal ground, each taking our time to assess the situation. I observed him as he sat cross-legged beside me, twiddling his thumbs, clearly bristling with energy and trying to keep it suppressed as he thought of what to say.

I exaggeratedly huffed the hair out of my eyes.

"So, just so we're on the same page and I'm not missing any pieces of crucial info; I've figured you're real – really real, and not just a character from a T.V show – and that I'm trapped here, in your timeline without a single way back home. It has to be because this is a different universe – a parallel one, because there's no way you exist otherwise." I concluded, raising an eyebrow at him, "Is that everything?"

I knew that staying cool would let me watch him to see if he'd slip up on any of my questions – I needed to know for absolute sure he wasn't lying. Also, silence didn't suit the clumsy man that I felt I knew so much about without _actually_ knowing him, so I decided to spruce up and try to get rid of the awkwardness that was so apparent in the air.

"Those are the essentials, yes..." The Doctor seemed taken aback by my level-headedness, like he'd expected me to break into tears at even admitting that I believed all this. He shook his head. "Sorry, just thought you'd take longer to get your head around–" He whistled, trailing off as he pointed to the sky. "You _did_ just think this was a dream up to a while ago, if my memory still works half as well as it used to."

I nodded my head wryly, my tone slow. "There is a lot I'm open to believing about the universe – the existence of the lost city of Atlantis, parallel dimensions, a possible destination after death, real aliens. But trust me, there is no reality in which I'm clever enough to dream this up – at least not in this much detail."

He gave me a funny look, and I had to laugh out a breathy sound at myself as I looked at him properly. I had flashbacks to when I had been lying face-to-face with his younger self – marvelling over the reality of it.

"I mean, look at you," I stressed, wanting him to understand as I looked at his face intently. "You have lines, _pores_ , little bits that you just don't think of in fiction or in dreams. So yes, this is real or I'm officially mentally insane."

 _What a way to break the tension, me._

Well it seemed to have worked slightly, as his creased forehead smoothed out and his eyebrows lifted with some understanding.

"Yes, Human brains are tricky to comprehend. And they're just as good at tricking you right back – what with their never-ending sources of creativity," He hummed. After a moment, his eyebrows drooped, and I found that he couldn't meet my eyes. "I'm sorry. I know that it's difficult to feel like you don't know your own mind. It's caused a good many to go mad. I'd never wanted you to feel that way."

"Well, I _feel_ sane, so that's a temporary positive," I smiled slightly, waving it off. "But that's less important. What I want to know is if there's anything else that's important. It's enough of a story-book premise I suppose, a girl trapped in a fictional land. I just want to know if there's anything that complicates it."

He nodded. "Well, you do also know everything that happens on each of my travels through time and space. Which, in of itself, is remarkably dangerous–" He spoke, looking like he was about to go off on a long rant about the logistics of my foreknowledge.

"Yeah, that too – tell me something I don't know," I huffed in a light, airy voice, exasperated by the idea. I could already imagine instances in which that could prove to be a problem.

"That's quite the dangerous statement, my dear. Since there are many things you don't know, and many more things that should be kept secret," He added in mischievously with an ominous voice.

"You're annoyingly cryptic, old man," I shot back, smiling as I felt the tension between the two of us begin to alleviate.

"I try to be," He ended, chuckling lightly in the half-lidded, teeth-showing kind of way this version of him did when he was content. Again, I had to remind myself, I had to get used to how real it looked.

"Besides–" I sighed, "–The last version of you already summed that up quite nicely, I think. Stuff about not being allowed to mess with time – not killing your grandad and all that."

"Yep," He scratched his head, indicating a sort of unwillingness to talk about his past and that night. I wasn't really keen on pushing either – if I'd known that this was real, that _he_ was real... well there's no way I'd ever have let myself act so open in front of him. It had gone from being a no-risk game of stakes to this odd predicament between strangers. I felt so aware of all my motions – and suddenly, there was no kind of comfort to be had here.

I shook off the blush of embarrassment from my face.

"So, everything about me – how you know me, how I can be here – It's all spoilers?" I poked, raising my eyebrows. I had to stop myself from purring the word in a cheap imitation of River Song.

"Yeah, that's what you tend to call them," He chuckled, " _Spoilers_."

We flittered back into silence – a much more comfortable one at that.

Listening to the rumbles and groans that came from inside the walls of the ship, I couldn't help my mind from already trying to think up conspiracies. As an overall, I was pretty taken aback by how he was acting with me. Normally, this version of the Doc kept every ounce of true emotion locked away – especially in his early years. Hell, it took Amy most of her entire life, to get close enough to see how much he cared for her.

"Honestly, I'm surprised. Normally, I'm the kind of girl nobody would go looking for. The TARDIS, she showed me how you kept looking. There aren't many people who'd do what you did for me," I said in an unfamiliarly soft voice – the kind I'd reserve for Jackson. Confused, I coughed awkwardly, rubbing at my nose to gather my senses. I brought my knees up to my chest as I refused to look at him. "Don't respond to that. I already feel like I'm taking crazy pills and I'd rather not add to that, just- Thank you. I needed the push."

I shuddered to think of how I could have probably spent years and years just hiding and pretending that I was living a perfectly normal life as long as I didn't leave that room. Out the corner of my eye, I could see him nod his head.

"So- what happens now? Will you drop me off somewhere?" I asked him anxiously, feeling an unfamiliar sort of dread at the idea of being completely alone – without anyone in the world to rely on. If this indeed _was_ a parallel world, there was nowhere I'd belong anyway.

He _had_ said before that the weird light kept me tethered to his life, but still, I imagine that wouldn't stop him from wanting to get rid of me if he wanted. He could throw me out, and after a few hours when I reappeared in a different regeneration's time, he could do the same again.

I didn't expect anything from the Doctor of course, even if the uprooting from my home was linked to him. I mean, all of his companions had to earn the right to travel with him, and all of them had been so spectacular that they truly deserved it. I, on the other hand, had just showed up. I hadn't earned a place in his heart. I wasn't brave like Sarah Jane or as talented as Martha Jones. I didn't know if I could ever be as confident as Donna, or make him better like Ian and Barbara. I could never help him like Rose did, just by being there.

"Would you want that?" He questioned tiredly, appearing to be stuck between a need to know what I desired and reluctance towards what I might say.

"No? Well, I don't think I would. I've never been on my own before, and the idea of starting a life from scratch is, well– scary," I shuddered, a bit off-put by how easily I was talking to him. I was quite the private person by nature, yet this prawn seemed to have a way of making me talk. "And besides, if what you're saying is true, I wouldn't stay stuck to one place for long. I imagine it'd get tiring after a while, having a home on Earth, but constantly showing up here."

The Doctor nodded along, a kind of electricity passing through his eyes at my sentiment.

"Well then, I think I might have just the solution for that," he replied brightly, getting up and offering me a hand. A charismatic smile donned his face. _"Come with me."_

"Where to?" I asked blankly, at a loss for what he wanted to show me.

He sighed loudly in reply, reaching down and then pulling me up my forearms. "You're cleverer than that. Look for the double-meaning, Miss Moore."

I let him pull me up, looking at him with my head tilted in confusion. I had a vague guess, that grew into an open-mouthed 'you can't be serious' look. I sputtered, shooting him the widest eyes I had in my arsenal. "You _cannot_ mean what I think you do."

"Bet my lives?" He said cheekily, like my awe was the most amusing thing.

 _"No."_ I said gravely, still caught up in the idea. He was asking _me_? To go with him as a companion would?

I couldn't, for the life of me, imagine myself travelling with the Doctor. I'd probably get him killed the second I stepped out of the TARDIS.

Maybe because I'd want to pet a Dalek or because I'd get exhausted by all the running and start to wonder what'd _really_ be so bad about becoming a Cyber-man.

But more importantly, because I knew – I _felt,_ like I couldn't. I couldn't get too cosy with the idea of this.

"No." I said, more seriously this time, the excitement fading. "I really can't."

"You're already a companion, my dear. How do you think I know you? You have a place here, despite what you may think," He said earnestly, expectantly waiting for an answer, like he thought his words had helped. He had on an innocent face, but all I felt was indignation.

 _How could he say that to me? That was an abuse of power if I had ever seen it._

By telling me that I would indeed be stuck here – since he had already lived through knowing older versions of me – he knew I couldn't find any cheat ways around it. Like my fate was inevitable – like I had no control over it.

But that's when I noticed. Something behind his eyes was a little wild – almost desperate. _Did he really want me to say yes?_

" _You can't do that_ ," I stopped him with angry eyes. I pointed a finger at him crossly. "You can't just say that, because it's already happened for you; I need to say 'Screw it, sure! Let's go see space."

"So is that a no?" His lips pouted and he suddenly looked down-cast. The bastard was giving me his signature puppy-dog eyes and I finally figured out how he still managed to stay alive after facing the deadliest of enemies and living without a penny to his name. No one could say no to that face.

The sigh that came was a signal, not of my resolve leaving but of the level my tension had reached. Like an old kettle - still full even when some steam forced its way out.

I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I was a quiet person whose adventures had always only been of the literary kind. But now it was like I was standing at an intersection with a whole heap of possible paths I could go down. Unsurprisingly many of them seemed to lead to an untimely death if I chose to stay with this man too long. But I wouldn't let it get to that.

I knew that I had a goal – but I suppose it meant that I'd have to tag along with the Doctor for the time being.

"It looks like I don't have much of a choice, do I? Nevertheless, it doesn't cancel out my argument. For as long as I'm stuck here, you can't use these timeline things to your advantage like that." I felt my ears go hot as I continued my tirade.

I knew I was being a bit of a bitch, but I wanted to make it perfectly clear to him;

 _I wasn't given a choice._

Regardless of how perfectly whimsical this all seemed – I had a life I still had to live, with people who depended on me. Almost every companion the Doctor would bring aboard would be at their limit – fed up with life in one way or another until they were tempted to leave it all behind for the madman in a suit. And besides, it didn't hurt that they got to leave whenever they wanted.

I wondered briskly, that if we would have met normally on one of his many escapades on earth – if maybe, I would've been tempted too.

"As long as you're stuck here?' Does that mean you're fine with...?" He gestured largely to the space around him, "What about-" He hesitated, his tongue stuck on the word, "Your family?"

I felt my throat tighten.

Out the corner of my eye, it was like I could almost see him. An unruly mop of blonde hair and sparkling chestnut eyes.

 _"Aapi, I'll be fine."_

I hadn't heard him speak in a while – but the memory often did a better job than we give it credit.

He always did that; act like he wasn't just a little boy who needed anyone to take care of him. He'd try and cook for himself, dress himself, even walk to school himself before I'd tell him to tone it down – he was just a kid, after all. Maybe I could be a little overprotective, but it was just because I cared about him too much. He liked to act like he was a grown-up, but I just wanted to give him the chance to stay a kid for as long as he could.

How fast would he have to grow up if I wasn't around?

I was his big sis. I'd always be his protector, and he'd always be my champ. How could I ever abandon something like that?

I grinned wryly at the Doctor.

"Who said I was giving up? I don't know where you stand Doctor, but to me – you don't just give up on family. I could never give up on them. If there's even the slightest chance I could get back- I'm taking it." My voice was shaky, but all I could feel was determination. I looked straight into his eyes, my voice edged with the glint of a promise. "I'm sorry, but for as long as I stay here with you, I'm always going to be looking for a way back."

The Doctor turned to meet my eyes, too slowly to be normal. When he speaks his voice trails slowly, like his words are unwilling to take flight, "Fiona-"

There's a sadness in his eyes, the hypnotising shade of green too glossy.

He had on one of those indecipherable looks – the kind that spoke volumes on how complex an individual's thoughts could be. He was going to open his mouth to say something, but somehow I could detect the signs of negation.

"Doc, please don't. Nothing you say could make me feel any differently," I shot back before he could continue. My mind had one clear path right now but I was scared of how easily I felt the hope I carried could shatter with just a few words from him. "Just keep moving. That's all I can do, right now."

He gave me a solitary nod before we began walking down the corridor.

Silence hung heavy in the air, but right as I was making my way out my sulky headspace, I felt the side of him bump into me. I tilted my head to see that he had returned to his normal hyper, un-coordinated self.

He flashed me a debonair grin before taking my hand and saying, "Well, just before you arrived, I dropped Amelia Pond back home to gather up her stuff. She's just started travelling with us." He looked at me expectantly to confirm I knew who he was talking about.

I nodded in recognition and he beamed, "Whatd'ya say, Miss Moore, would you like to go on your first proper adventure?"

"Fix me up six cups of coffee and we're good to go," I muffled tiredly through a yawn.

Even though I tried to hide it, I couldn't truly suppress the child in me who had always wondered what it'd be like to join the man beside me on one of his great adventures. Excitement got the better of me and I couldn't help but end but grinning alongside the Doctor as we made our way to the console room.

* * *

 **"Aapi" – Older Sister**

* * *

 **Afterword: Welcome to the afterword again! I'm sorry about the lack of much action this chapter, but I figured it would be necessary for character building. I've always considered the minor, relationship-building scenes between characters to be quite important and limiting them to their own chapter makes them stand out more.**

 **Once again, I'm trying to make this as realistic of a scenario as possible – which might make this a bit of a slow burn until Fiona can actually find a way to accept this new life of hers. I definitely intend to have it pay off in the end so that whatever happens makes for an interesting story.**

 **If the family angle seems lame to you, then I'm sorry but it'll have a lot to do with the OC and her values. I intend for it to speak mostly for her character and the very, very important emphasis that many Pakistani and Indian people have in the idea of a 'family' or community. I'll introduce how this impacts the Doctor and his companions – especially the Doctor, as we know how he tries to move on from companions he loses by almost forgetting them sometimes.**

 **Don't be shy to leave a review and let me know how you think it's going so far, but even if you don't, thank you for following this story. Till the next time!**


	5. Chapter 5 - Kick Ass, Go To Space

**Will We Meet Again?**

 **Chapter 5. Kick ass. Go to space. Represent the human race.**

* * *

 **A/N: Hey there readers! Here's another chapter for you to enjoy. I haven't been reading many 'Doctor Who' fics lately, none of my favourite writers are updating! If you have any suggestions for good stories, or even your own, I'll be glad to check them out. I'm trying to make the chapters longer, though it is harder than it looks, so I hope this length is adequate enough for now. As always, your comments, follows and favourites are completely appreciated and I hope for more people to make suggestions and warrant feedback. Thanks for reading!**

 **Warning: Mentions of anxiety and depression. If this bothers or upsets you, I'm sorry, and I hope that I'm conveying the subject as realistically as I can.**

 ***Edited on 4/01/2018**

* * *

 ** _Entry no. 4_**

 _Eccedentesiast_

(n.) Someone who only pretends to smile.

 _I wish he wouldn't hide his hearts like that._

* * *

 _Ugh, of all the times for this to happen._

The thoughts were accelerating inside my head. I wanted them to slow so I could breathe but they wouldn't. My heart was hammering inside my chest like it belonged to a rabbit running for its skin.

Normally I was an A-class pro at keeping my emotions at bay, really, but I knew I was prone to becoming anxious. Maybe the rabbit allegory held some weight. What tickled me pink though, was when the anxiety came kicking in for no good reason.

My home was... gone. At least for the time being.

That could wait, right? I'm staying in a time machine after all – I could spend weeks looking for a solution and still pop up the next morning after I had left.

Everything was fine. Everything was cool. So why in the world did I still feel like reeling over from the guilt I felt? _Jesus, it wasn't like I was leaving them behind._

I groaned, a bit fed up with how my brain was working. I guess that I just couldn't help that my heart felt tired.

 _Just Breathe..._

Sighing deeply, I bent down to the sink and let the chilly water run down my face – partially numbing it.

Reluctantly, I glanced up at the reflection that was now staring back at me under the warm light of the bathroom. I had avoided looking in the mirror for the time I had stayed isolated in the TARDIS – not wanting to actually _see_ myself as a part of this world.

Though now, I bashfully wished that I had fixed myself up before I stormed up to the Doctor in the hallway a few minutes ago. My eyes were dull and tired, eye-bags looking particularly large as I scowled at myself. Dry tear tracks served as the embarrassing truth of the hours that had now passed, trailing down red, irritated skin. And to top it all off, my dark hair looked messier than a bird's nest.

 _If I keep this up, I might just miss out on that Miss America award I'd been hoping to win._

Making a disgusted noise, I began trying to fix myself up since this was going to be an actual, proper adventure with the Doctor, after all. It still felt so unbelievably weird to think out loud.

My skin itched as sharp prickles of nerves ate away at me. The Doctor had such a way of making you excited about throwing yourself into life-endangering terror, that I hadn't registered what was going to happen until _after_ I was alone in this large bathroom.

 ** _"Pick up Amelia, go to space."_**

Two simple things had never been so vague. That's all that the captain of the ship would tell me, claiming that the rest would be a 'surprise.'

It might be too much to have asked, silly me, but some context would've been appreciated. Just so I could figure out where we were in his freaking timeline, _but no_ , let me work myself into a panic attack as I tried to figure out if all we were going to find was imminent death.

Clearly, I hadn't gathered where I was in his timeline yet, though I knew it had to be before they picked up Rory – a sneaky way that I'd gathered that was upon my sly mentioning of the Roman, to which the Doctor looked at me like I had two heads. On top of that, the time-lord had actually smirked at me when I insisted he tell me where we were going, instead telling me to take it easy on this trip and that we'd be fine.

 _I swear, one day I'm going to find a way to knock that cocky grin off of his face, even if it's the last thing I do._

Criminy, even if the anxiety wouldn't go away, my spite for the situation would keep me going.

Trying not to go all 'Britney Spears, circa 2007' by covering up my worries with pure spunk. If it worked for Miss Donna Noble, I might as well try. I'll be sure to pick up a few pointers if I ever run into her, what with the 'jumping around time and space' thing. A pit in my stomach told me how I wouldn't be able to be so sarcastic about my issues when I was alone again – because that's when they would start feel real.

But for now...

 _Straighten the spine and smile._

I had to suck it up and go along with what was coming, even if the whispers of my home would keep half of my mind preoccupied.

* * *

With a heavy weight in my chest, I looked at the mirror and flashed myself a grin that even Mona Lisa would envy. Sure it was fake, but it seemed real enough. After a final check up on the way I looked, I bid the bathroom adieu and went on my way. I had changed into a dark grey tee that I tucked into some black skinny jeans, with a leather jacket on top – the ensemble accompanied by some black combat boots and a maroon scarf in case it got cold out.

"Well, finally!" A voice violently broke through my thoughts as I let out a loud yelp.

The Doctor, _the prat_ , was lounging on an orange couch right outside the door, twiddling his fingers impatiently. He hadn't changed, but that's either because he never did or all of his clothes just looked the same. Tweed jacket, red bow tie, a dress-shirt tucked into black pants and a mop of floppy brown hair that sat on top of an amused face.

The sight would take some getting used to.

I furrowed my brows at him, "Have you been sitting there all this time?"

I was partially afraid of his answer, glancing up at the TARDIS's ceiling momentarily. If she showed me what the Doctor had looked like, tired and upset in the hallway – what was stopping her from showing him how _I_ looked with my walls down?

"Well, _yes and no_. Just got here, because you know how the old girl likes to switch the rooms around," He returned, fondly patting the wall by his head, "Thought I'd walk you back to the main room."

He leisurely got up from his place on the sofa, making his way to my side and sticking out an elbow.

"My lady," He pronounced fancily, stars of mischief and excitement dancing through his eyes. It was the same thing he had done back in Shakespeare's time, but to me, it was the first time I could definitely see how he always was the same man.

His soul was just like the show had made it out to be – it paralleled the sun in a way. It was crazy, wild and blinding if you were to stare at it too long – but at the same time, he was just a guy. He could be the completely awe-inspiring genius I had grown up watching, while still posing as an everyday sort of guy.

I grinned at him, a bit flustered– before I gave in and slipped my arm around his.

"Why, thank you, Sir Doctor." I replied in the best posh British accent I could muster, curtsying and trying to look particularly snobbish. The Doctor's responding laugh came like a newly sprung leak, most definitely over how absurd I looked, while I just bit the edge of my smile, a vain attempt to keep the creeping grin at bay.

"What? Are you jealous of my unparalleled grace?" I looked to him playfully as we began moving out of the small room, with me feeling like a kid who had just skipped out on class. Something about not having a single responsibility anymore was way more thrilling than I could have expected. A little break from how much I did have to do back home.

"Oh, I'm green with envy," The Doctor retorted, his dimples crinkling as he smirked. His voice had taken on this mischievous tone, almost like he was used to the back-and-forth.

I didn't let it deter me – instead, I arched an eyebrow at him, "I'm sure, especially with how much you resemble an uncoordinated giraffe."

He gasped loudly, an alarmingly realistic look of shock crossing his features, "That was rude, _and unnecessary_. Not to mention, completely false."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Too honest for you?" I teased him, watching in amusement as he folded his arms – sulking like a small child.

I sighed at him, a tiny bit of my fondness leaking through from memories of the past. Despite everything, I was still a massive fan of him. The Doctor in all his essence. I thought highly of every version of him that there was. Eleven was just as special to me as the rest of them, quirks and all.

I elbowed him in the side, "I'm not bashing you at all, Doctor. I think it adds character."

He thought about it for a second, a look of perplexity creasing his forehead.

"Hm, I suppose it does," He began nodding his head out of his thoughts before he ended on a smugly satisfied grin, "It's like the bow-tie, then."

"It's really not," I groaned.

Sure, his demeanour added to his charm but if he seriously thought that his fashion choices had anything to do with it, then– _Ugh, then I'd be the one lying._

"It really is. Bow-tie's are cool, therefore, so am I." His face adorned a shit-eating grin as he straightened out said bow-tie.

I rolled my eyes, unable to resist the urge to smile, "You are literally a child."

I had been meaning to talk to him seriously – You know, now that I didn't _completely_ believe that he was a figment of my imagination.

I could've asked him a billion things worth asking – How many species of aliens were there?

What was dark matter? How many stars were there in the sky? Where did black holes lead to? – I'm sure in all his years he would've found the answer to some of them.

But, I never really _was_ curious for the right reasons. Instead, my brain remained entirely selfish.

The only valuable questions that seemed to nip away at my brain had to do with how I played into this version of the story. How long has he known me? How long do I stay in one place at a time? What decides where I jump to next?

I had _so_ many things to ask him – but all thoughts seemed to abandon me when we strolled into the TARDIS console room.

I was finally getting a chance to look at her clearly.

Warm oranges and reds came pouring down in beams from the overhead lights, settling onto the cool, electric blue ones that shone from beneath the glass floor. Smooth copper pipes jutted out from the wonderfully disfigured walls, making up the railings. The console, in all its glory, sat seated in the middle like it always did. The entire picture made it feel like we were in the mouth of a giant mechanical beast – the Doctor's very own 'Moving Castle'.

 _Howl would've been very, very jealous._

"Didn't get a chance to look at her properly, did you? Everything you went through _would_ have been distracting, after all."

A breathy laugh escaped me, "You think?"

I seemed to have dropped the Doctor's arm, abandoning him to stand in front of the console – having being completely wound up in the enchanting vision before me.

In my own home there was never really an aroma that stuck out, or at least none that I ever noticed. I suppose that was normal, I had never really been one to take notice. Yet the smell of the air in the TARDIS, specifically near the console, took me back to simpler times. Back to the meadows outside the village where I hailed from – Back in the roaring fields of the Pakistani valley's that we'd run through as children.

Even with my eyes closed I could smell it, inhaling deeply like each breath was a time machine in and of itself – then, for a few precious seconds, I let myself feel like I was twelve all over again, with buttercups in my hair.

I opened my eyes.

I snuck a glance at the Doctor to see him observing me, his eyes and lips wearing matching smiles.

"What do you think?" He smiled slyly at me, probably expecting me to come up with some great, never-before-heard response. This was always the most momentous part for any companion that set foot in the TARDIS.

"You've heard them all. What does it matter what I think?" I replied blanking, concealing the twinge of disappointment I felt in myself. I couldn't think of anything clever or hilariously witty. Delivering large, praiseworthy speeches that inspired people; it just wasn't me. And besides, it was true. What could there possibly be left to say after 900 years of capable companions?

I watched with my head lowered as the Doctor's scuffed leather shoes came into view.

"Stop that. Right now, in this very moment, you and your thoughts matter more than anyone who's ever stepped foot aboard my TARDIS." He shot back, almost angry as he halted my thoughts – almost as if he could read them.

He looked at me with the most intense gaze of importance, blue-grey eyes so piercing; I doubted a human being could ever look like that. His face then softened, his voice turning gentle like he had never been anything else, "Tell me what you think?"

I almost staggered back by the tremendous weight in his words. I had never been _the most_ important anything.

I didn't even listen to the voice in my head that told me he was lying to make me feel better – all that mattered was that he said it. I decided that I'd give in to this little moment of weakness.

"I–" I pondered a moment, before letting a surprisingly genuine smile slip into my voice. I said the first thing I had thought, the very second I walked in.

"I think she's beautiful. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

It was true. A select few of the Doctors companions would ever see the beauty of the TARDIS, some of them not even realising that she was alive. I let a hand fall onto the warm gold surface of the console, revelling in the fact that century's worth of memories were lying underneath my fingers. All that love and life shared between the Doctor and the family he'd find, as well as all the loss and heartbreak that preceded it; this is its heart.

It all started in this room.

"That's an excellent answer."

My hand was tugged on and I turned to see the Doctor pulling me back to reality. His smile had turned wide and exuberant, looking more pleased than I had seen this version of him to look.

Before I could respond, my mind turned to something else in the room.

 _Ah shit, there was that smell again._ It was way too distracting. Way too _specific_.

"Hey Doc, could I ask..." I trailed, my head wandering to wherever it was coming from, "The smell – why does it smell like flowers in here? I don't remember you having any interests in gardening."

Curiosity seemingly peeked, the Doctor's expression turned inquisitive, "Is that what it smells like to you?"

"It doesn't to you?" My eyebrows furrowed. Anyone would have to be seriously smell-disinclined to not smell that, it was practically overwhelming now.

He smiled softly, a kind of weird understanding flickering across his face, "To me, it smells like sand, and snow, and muddy grass. Don't believe everything the TARDIS shows you."

I paused, confusion etched on my face.

 _What?_

Mud, and sand, and snow – where else would such a combo ever exist?

I felt the breath leave me, because of course. The TARDIS was a time machine, with her heart located right where the Doctor would control things.

Somehow, in a really messed up way, she was showing me home – or at the very least, what it smelled like. My home – the place I grew up – obviously being the rolling hillsides of buttercup flowers and honeysuckle. But to the Doctor, what else could it have been other than Gallifrey?

My heart clenched at the thought. I had only been away from home for a couple of hours, but he didn't even have a home to get back to.

I turned towards him, but he had already seemed to have moved on.

"I'll show you the ins and outs another time, if you'd like. Though, I _do_ believe you said you'd like to meet a certain ginger at the moment?" He smiled warmly, his thumb toying with the cuff of my jacket. He pulled away abruptly once he seemed to realise what he was doing, flashing me a sheepish smile and moving past me and to the console.

 _Wowie, he's definitely a lot more 'friendly' than the show made him out to be._

I felt for the Doctor, I really did, but I also really didn't want to give off any wrong ideas. Especially since I'd yet to meet River – I didn't think it'd help me all that much if she saw her future-husband acting so strange with another girl.

Silly me hadn't even registered that I was blushing over the tiny act. It was just so intimate, in a way – or maybe that was just me reading too much into a small thing.

I felt a tension growing within me – simultaneously having a million unhelpful thoughts, as well as offering nothing at all on why the Doctor was treating me like he had known me forever.

I understood that with this teleporting thing, he was bound to have known me for longer than I had known him, but it still didn't settle well with me. We weren't friends – at least it didn't feel that way yet. So even if _he_ did think of me like that, I knew that I still needed some space.

I just needed to make sure to keep some distance from now.

* * *

The infamous whooshing of the TARDIS sent any and all awkward tension out the window.

It was absolutely impossible to try and suppress the smile, laced with awe that tugged on my lips as I watched the Doctor dance around the console. Be it a strange, clumsy dance that resulted in him almost slipping over himself more than twice, it made quite the image. The Doctor and his TARDIS with all the signature flashing lights, grumbling noises and rise in shakiness; even the most closeted of fans couldn't deny how perfect this was.

Soon enough we were on the floor laughing, thrown into each other because of the dangerous whirlwind of motion that accompanied each trip in the TARDIS. I had been chuckling so hard that I hadn't even noticed the creaking of a door.

"Would you two knock it off? Planets to see, people to meet, remember?" A familiar Scottish accent cut through the air.

My eyes immediately shot open and I tried not to cringe at the intensity of the lights in my eyes. Amongst the blur of shadows and light, strings of red caught my eye. Focusing, I gazed further upwards and found the face of Amy Pond herself, only that she was upside down.

"Amelia Pond!" I squeaked, completely taken over by surprise. _Oh lord, she's prettier than the show had ever made her out to be._ She was dressed in an oversized red hoodie with a black skirt over light leggings and converse, looking at me like I was crazy.

"...Yes. That _is_ my name." She spoke cautiously with confusion highlighting her face, "Though, I did tell you Fiona, stop calling me that. It's _just_ 'Amy'."

While a part of me wanted to listen to what she was saying, I was a bit preoccupied registering what she looked like up close.

Locks of sleek, auburn hair framed her pretty, round face. The swathes of loose glossy hair did a tremendous job of accenting the cinnamon cream colour of her eyes, with the flecks in them appearing the same shade of green as winter moss.

"Ah yes, see that hasn't happened for her yet. Amy, this is her first time meeting you," The Doctor rushed to add before things got too confusing. I had made sure to get up before he could offer me a hand, being the 'gentleman' he was.

I needed to make sure he couldn't get too close to me, especially in front of Amy.

"Oh." Was all Amy could utter, her eyes wide with an indistinguishable emotion?

She looked slightly sad, but that might've just been a trick of the light. A minute passed before she regained focus and tilted her head towards me. "I guess I'm not too sure what to do now. I haven't met a version of you who didn't know me yet."

I floundered for a second, my fingers pulling on themselves nervously from behind my back. She looked so unreadable that I was left with nothing to work with.

"Oh don't worry about it. Just treat me how you usually would. It's um... it's nice to meet you," I flashed a kind, awkward smile at her, sensing her discomfort _._

I winced on the inside. _Real smooth, Moore._

Though the curiosity in me wondered why she was so uncomfortable with the idea of a 'me' who didn't know her yet.

 _We might be close in the future, who knows?_

"Yeah, alright. I'll give it a shot." She drawled coyly, a single corner of her mouth tilted upwards into a smirk _._ She looked quite like a cat that just caught its mouse, but intended to toy with it before she had it for dinner.

 _Ok, maybe we aren't that close._ I pondered in my mind. _Or maybe she's just snarky with everyone._

"Come on now, we can all chat later." The Doctor impatiently waved us over to the console he had been operating while Amy and I met.

He turned to me, eyes deep with the importance of a question, "Alright then, Miss Fiona Moore, where d'ya want to go? Anywhere in time and space. The option's yours – first proper adventure and all."

"Oh- Um-" I knew he'd do this when people first hopped aboard, but I hadn't thought about which amazing sight I'd like to see first. I was a tiny bit embarrassed, being put on the spot like that – but I honestly didn't have a fricken clue, "I really don't know to be honest," I said honestly, "I'm sure anything would knock my socks off."

"I know just where to go for everything. A little stop for you to get a taste of all the galaxy has to offer." He beamed with enthusiasm before racing around the console, manically flipping switches and pulling levers. Amy kept grumbling about not getting to choose and how the doctor had promised her a planet.

"Alright, let's do this," I muttered re-assuredly to myself, which may have misconstrued for excitement. The Doctor must've heard me when he passed me because he chuckled whole-heartedly.

"That's the spirit! Amy, take notes," He pointed at Amy who couldn't resist the urge to roll her eyes. He whooped as the ship began to shake once again. "Grab onto something, we're in for a bumpy ride."

* * *

We skipped through the museum the Doctor had brought us to. We were trying to keep up with him as he excitedly ran past exhibits, stopping momentarily to let out a snarky comment or two about the labelling of the installations.

"Wrong. Wrong. Bit right, mostly wrong. I love museums," He flashed us a grin, slowing down once he saw how out-of-breath we were.

"Yeah, great. Can we go to a planet now? Big space ship? Churchill's bunker? You promised me a planet next." Amy recalled their promise, looking at the Doctor pointedly.

"Wait a sec, I thought we _were_ on a different planet. All the spacey relics on display would give you the impression," I let out in a breathy voice – slightly lost since on the show they never dwelled too much on the backgrounds of places like these.

 _Man, I really need to study up if I'm going to keep going to these places I know nothing about._

"We're not on a planet. Earth either. We're on an asteroid, and not just any old asteroid. It's the Delerium Archive, the final resting place of the headless monks. The biggest museum ever.,"He uttered with a sense of importance and wonder. Neither of which Amy was buying, unfortunately.

"You've got a time machine. What do you need museums for?" Amy spoke dryly, frowning in distaste at a certain piece on the wall.

"Wrong. Very wrong. Ooh- one of mine. Also one of mine. "He spoke smugly, gently tugging me forward, so that I could see too. He didn't move his arm and ended up lacing his fingers through mine.

 _Wow, fantastic._ I mentally berated myself. _So much for establishing some distance._

I couldn't just pull away; he'd think something was up.

Also, I hated to admit it – but I was inquisitive by nature. And the curious part in me just couldn't help but notice how his hand was so different from the last version of him that held my hand. While ten's hand was smooth and bony – like warm clay, eleven's hand was callused and raw, like he had stitched patches of leather onto once soft skin. It struck me as strange, especially since this body of his was new – but then I remembered how he was the one version of the Doctor that worked almost compulsively on the TARDIS. A part of me figured that I'd see why in days to come.

I not like I minded either way – I liked how different each version of him was. I thought that there was beauty to be found in all the differing features.

"I have a hunch it's how he keeps score. Also in case he hasn't yet convinced us of how 'incredibly impressive' he is," I said to Amy, my eyes alight with humour. I looked back to the Doctor, who was watching me like he quite enjoyed how I was psychoanalysing him. I lifted an eyebrow. "Am I right?"

The red-head snorted and nodded her head in complete agreement. The doctor just winked at me, looking completely unperturbed by the comments that any other guy would take as a criticism.

"And here I was thinking that this was a special occasion, first trip and all," I went on casually, blinking at him slow – accusatorily. I wasn't mad in the slightest, but it _was_ outrageously funny seeing him squirm. A slightly guilty look crossed his face, but he smiled apologetically at me – that was before the spark of an idea seemed to light his eyes.

"Well, I wasn't lying. Everything you would ever want to see is right here, in this very museum! Take your pick of whatever looks the most fun and we can go right there," He said to me with a refreshed look of elation.

The Doctor stopped abruptly, suddenly very taken by something in the next display that caught his eye.

It was an antique box with a circular hole and weird markings that littered the sides. Seemingly intrigued, the Doctor looked at the top side of the box that bore strange symbols. He circled around the glass case while Amy and I watched from the sidelines. The look of interest I wore was faked since I knew exactly what it was and had to do my best to quell the smile growing on my lips.

"Oh great, an old box." Amy noticed, rolling her eyes sarcastically as she folded her arms.

"It's from one of the old star-liners. A Home Box," The Doctor almost whispered, trailing his hand above the glass, as if he were tracing the lines in the stone itself.

"What's a Home Box?" I questioned, baiting him even though I already knew. _Always let him show off how smart he is._

"Like a black box on a plane, except it homes. Anything happens to the ship, the Home Box flies home with all the flight data." He explained slowly, slightly dazed.

"So?" Amy squinted her eyes, scratching the back of her head unenthusiastically.

"The writing, the graffiti – Old High Gallifreyan. The lost language of the Time Lords..." He recited ominously, staring deeply at Amy to make her comprehend the importance of the language. "There were days – there were many days – these words could burn stars and raise up empires, and topple gods."

It wasn't until he gulped heavily and stared silently at the glass for a moment too long that I realised. He was afraid. This must be crazy for him, seeing his language from a source other than himself after so long.

 _False hope._

Very hesitantly, I squeezed his arm as reassuringly as I could, letting him know that we were there for him. He shut his eyes for a second, like the presence of my arm had just drawn him out of something far deeper. His eyes shifted to meet mine, and a moment passed where it looked like he had been reminded that he wasn't the anonymous traveller that Amy knew him as. Because there I was, in an odd change of sorts – knowing exactly what that language represented. None of his companions typically knew the entirety of him – not many knew where he came from. I suppose it was easier to forget it yourself when you travelled with people like that.

"What does it say?" I asked in a careful voice. I didn't want to rush him, but I knew that neither Amy nor I were able to take the suspense any longer. I waited for the Doctor to say the professor's iconic line so that I could mouth along in my head.

 _Hello, Sweeti-_

"Hello, lovelies." He read in a slightly annoyed voice, all seriousness gone as he seemed completely and utterly put-out by the words.

 _Wait a hot second. 'Lovelies'? Where had that come from?_

Even in the original, when it was just the Doctor and Amy, she referred solely to him. River isn't someone to be messed with, so I knew that any variable for change _had_ to relate to my being here.

If it really is my fault that things have changed, I dread to think it might be because of something bad. _I suppose I was in for a treat._

My eyes were surely the size of saucers and my voice managed to stoop to an almost completely inaudible level – so low that neither Amy nor the Doc could hear.

"Well isn't this an interesting turn of events?"

* * *

Before we knew it, alarms were blaring and the three of us were rushing back to the TARDIS. The Doctor had stolen the box, promising me he'd return it later – even though I doubted he ever would. Two guards were chasing us down, catching up and forcing us to move faster.

In what seemed like no time at all, we were back in the comforting glow of the Doctor's ship. He rushed to the centre of the ship with Amy on his trail, hooking the home box up to the console while I made sure the doors were locked.

"Why are we doing this?" Amy asked in growing confusion and alarm. I had made my way up the stairs in time to see a grainy, black-and-white video start playing. A familiar middle-aged woman – with big, curly hair and a silky black dress – winked at the camera just as she showed up on the monitor.

The video cut-out to another scene with the woman with her back to the camera, facing a door.

" _The party's over, Doctor Song…_ " A man called out over the monitor. _"…yet still you're on board._ "

She turned to face the man and spoke in a sharp yet flirtatious voice, " _Sorry, Alistair._ _I needed to see what was in your vault. Do you all know what's down there? Any of you? Because I'll tell you something. This ship won't reach its destination._ "

" _Wait till she runs. Don't make it look like an execution._ " Alistair ordered his men without a hint of hesitation.

Doctor Song then lazily began looking at her watch. _"Triple-seven, five…slash, three, four, nine by ten."_

The Doctors face flashed with recognition _,_ his eyes flittering to me as we shared a brief look of understanding.

 _"Zero, twelve, slash, acorn. Oh, and I could do with an air corridor."_

He started to type the sequence onto the keyboard, excited to be thrown straight into action.

 _"Like I said on the dance floor, you might want to find something to hang on to."_ She was standing in the airlock before the door bust open and she was pulled into the vacuum of space.

"What was that, what did she say?" Amy asked urgently, looking between the two of us, her hands on the metal bar underneath the monitor. I just shrugged and nodded my head towards the Doctor.

"Co-ordinates!" He cried, letting out a whoop as he ran over to the TARDIS doors.

He reached out a single hand with the other holding tightly onto the door's handle. He pulled River in, losing balance as he did, resulting in them both landing on the floor. She was lying on top of him, in quite the suggestive pose, her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Um, Doc? You okay?" I stood a little ways away from them, weirdly uncomfortable being in the position of an actual person on board and not a viewer who could just want two characters to end up together.

A part of me felt strangely relieved _. See, what'd I tell you? Eleven's always been the touchy one, you're not the only one he'd get close to_. In the end, I managed to convince myself that all the hand-holding and strange looks were nothing more than fleeting little things that came with knowing him.

The thought was kinda disconcerting. Like there was the underlying weirdness of another emotion I couldn't place.

From in front of me, the Doctor's eyes widened as he held both hands in front of himself – urging River to get up. He looked like a fish gasping in air, as he scrambled to get up after her. River, on the other hand, hadn't even acknowledged him. She stared straight ahead, as if she had too much on her mind.

They both were standing by the bay doors, watching the ship fly away.

"Follow that ship." River ordered in a low, determined voice.

It was all coming back to me now. Before, I hadn't completely registered what was going on – just going along with the fast-paced nature of things – but like a punch, it was beginning to hit me full force.

What was happening and where we were going next wasn't something to be excited for.

A trickle of sweat rolled down my spine. My mind blurred.

Angels. Weeping Angels. The most deadly creatures in the galaxy and we were going to get thrown into a pit of them. I clenched my hands into fists, stopping their shaking as I tried to concentrate. I had to force myself to try and find a positive.

I had a feeling I was going to go to hell today, but hey – At least we were all going together.

* * *

 **Afterword: Ugh, who else can relate to the difficulty of trying to write a character that's smarter than yourself? I honestly hope that I'm doing the Doc's character justice and that he remains in character, regardless of which generation it is.**

 **Sorry to leave you all with a cliff-hanger, but I'm evil like that. Also, as I've said previously, Idk when I'll post next, but it'll definitely be faster since I'm going to be adapting the real episode instead of creating new scenes like in this chapter and the last one. Anywho, till then my lovely readers!**


	6. Chapter 6 - The Time of Angels

**Will We Meet Again?**

 **Chapter 6. The Time of Angels  
**

* * *

 **A/N: *IMPORTANT NOTE: Okay, it's not that important but, I did add and change some stuff when editing the previous chapters. Take a look if you're interested, but story-wise, nothing too big has changed.**

 **Woah! This is the longest chapter I've written so far. Sorry for the wait, exam season sorta knocked the motivational stuffing outta me, but I'm back now.**

 **As you've probably picked up by now, this** _ **will**_ **be an OC/Doc story, although instead of making it all mushy and romantic as soon as I can, I want to establish a friendship to begin with. Honestly though, some stories have great lovie-dovie stuff and that's perfectly cool, but it's really freaking important to make them friends first (IMO only, to each their own); Although, I definitely can't wait to get into all that stuff, later on.**

* * *

 ** _Entry no. 5_**

 _Adventure_

(n.) An unusual and exciting, or daring, or an overall typically hazardous experience.

 _A word I have never known the feel of._

* * *

"They've gone into warp drive, we're losing them!"

River was barking out orders left and right, her eyes ablaze. "Stay close!"

The Doctor and Ms. Song were rapidly working the controls while Amy and I stood back and watched. Amy had a remarkably apparent look of confusion on her face as she'd glance at me questioningly every now and then. River, in the mean time, had hung her apple red heels underneath the railing on the monitor.

She hadn't acknowledged me yet, which in turn, started to make me very, very nervous. Melody Pond could be a deadly enemy given the circumstances, and if she didn't like me for whatever reason, I was no better than dead already.

"I'm trying!" The Doctor said, defensively. He looked just as confused as Amy, but even more like he was losing severely at a game to the new kid on the block that just happened to be a billion times better.

 _Oh, that was something I could imagine perfectly._

A little doctor who's spent his whole life perfecting his skills at one game in the Arcade, when one day, a little River shows up; beating the game and getting the high-score like it was a piece of cake – it summed up their relationship with the TARDIS perfectly. I let out a quiet snicker, completely oblivious now to the bickering couple in front of me.

"Use the stabilisers." River shot back, smirking at me slyly from over the doctor's shoulder. I jumped, having not expected that in the slightest, quickly trying to gather myself and smile back at her.

 _She must have heard me, I suppose._

"There aren't any stabilisers!" The Doctor protested, surely feeling very trapped by the bossy woman.

"The blue switches!" River rushed to him, rolling her eyes.

"The blue ones don't do anything, they're just...blue." He shot back defensively.

River rolled her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time and shoved past him, pressing down the blue switches. "Yes, they're blue. They're the blue stabilisers!" The ship suddenly went quiet.

"See?" She looked up at the Doctor smugly.

"Yeah, well, it's just boring now, isn't it? They're boringers. They're blue boringers." The Doctor shot back snarkily – angrily flipping switches around.

"Fiona, how come she can fly the TARDIS?" Amy asked, tugging at my arm and nodding her head at River.

 _Ok, it's was more than slightly weird knowing how the two of them were related,_ I mused to myself, looking at the mother and daughter in a new light. I just shrugged and gave Amy a look that said, 'wait and find out.'

"You call that flying the TARDIS? Ha!" The Doctor spat, slumping down on the jump seat to sulk.

"Aw, come on Doc, you can handle more than a girl stealing your spotlight, can't you?" I asked him jokingly, patting him on the head as if he were a child. He just batted my hands away, scowling half-heartedly.

"Yes love, I'm afraid I already have quite some experience with that." He muttered through his sulking, momentarily forgetting his scorn for River as he gave me a knowing look. My head tilted to the side in confusion before he just waved it off.

"Okay. I've mapped the probability vectors, done a fold-back on the temporal isometry, charted the ship to its destination, and parked us right alongside." River announced triumphantly, as the ship seemed to hit ground.

"Parked us? We haven't landed." The Doctor said, looking at River like she was off her meds.

"Of course we've landed. I just landed her." River ended, staring at the Doctor with a smug look on her face as she made her way to my side.

Abruptly, she turned in my direction and threw her arms around me, squeezing tightly.

She spoke softly, her voice right next to my ear, "Hello Starshine, didn't get to say hello yet."

I blinked in disbelief, flailing my arms around slightly from where she had trapped them. Funny, I had been told by some that I was a great hugger – but whenever I was hugged by someone I didn't know, I'd somehow forget what the function of a hug even was. Better yet, I was being hugged by River Song – the very woman I thought was going to hate me for sticking around her husband.

 _I suppose she didn't despise me, after all._

"Oh wow. Hugging. We're hugging now. Honestly didn't see this coming."

River pulled back, a strange look spreading across her face. She seemed to look deep into my eyes before she spoke.

"Wow, you _are_ young. I could swear I've never seen you this... And you didn't hug me back?" She paused, looking ahead blankly for a minute before she seemed to realise something.

She took a breath before looking over at the Doctor, who only gave her a small nod. The expressionless look in his eyes seemed to tell her something. She instantly blanched, pulling back faintly but still keeping her emotions hidden behind a blank canvas.

"Fiona, don't you- know who I am?" She asked with a strained voice, studying my face like it was the first time she'd ever seen it.

A strange sense of fear crept up my spine as I observed the clear signs of heartbreak in her eyes, but all I could think about was; _Is this what life with the Doctor was going to be like?_

I thought about all the companions I could end up meeting. _Not all of them might like me, but if they did, won't I hurt them by how much I don't know?_ _Never meeting people in the right order... None of the relationships I'd ever make would completely make sense._

I assumed that River Song, staring at me like my answer could shatter her, cared about me. Actually, genuinely– _cared_ about me. And then, there I was. Looking like a lost pup, not wanting to lie to her.

I decided to give it to her straight.

"No. Not personally, anyway," I let out, my voice small as I shook my head at her. I found the hurt seeping into her features but immediately held my hands out in a stopping motion, coming up with one possible solution, "Hey it's ok, yeah? B-because this means you'll never meet a version of me that doesn't know you yet."

A second of silence passed us.

To my surprise, she let out a little laugh at my panicked attempt to make her feel better. She shook her head fondly, turning away from me and looking at the Doctor to see him with the same expression. Even though the grief was clearly still there, her eyes sparkled.

"Oh Starshine, always trying to make things right – Even when you don't know me yet." Her voice was back to its light, teasing tone.

It was so incredibly disconcerting how she was treating me in the exact same way she had when the Doctor – Ten – had met her for the first time. Why did she feel _so_ strongly about me?

"Starshine?" I asked, glad that she wasn't as upset as she had been. I had to restrain myself from diving into a whole rant with all the questions I wanted to ask her. I was still so utterly confused by everything that was happening – but I decided to wait till she was ready to answer me.

"Yes, that's what I call you when I'm in a good mood." She patted my head in good nature, like I was her pupil and she was my teacher.

She was taller than me by half a head, which made me seem childish in comparison, especially considering that she couldn't have been more than 5'5. Being the shortest person on board seemed to make me the perfect size for the others to tuck me under their arm – which is what I noticed when I had to dodge the Doctor's attempts to guide me using my shoulders. It seemed like every version of him I had met so far loomed over me in height, leading me to believe I'd slowly develop a crick in my neck from having to look up so often.

"And what do you call me when you're in a bad mood?" I pondered out loud.

"Oh, you'll just have to wait and see." She narrowed her eyes flirtatiously, letting a coy smile line her lips.

I took an unwarranted intake of air, choking on my words. My eyes went wide in disbelief. _Is she hitting on me?_

"Right – Enough of that." The Doctor coughed abruptly, startling River and me out of our first meeting. He looked terribly annoyed, which made me have to bite back giggles.

 _Don't worry Doc, I won't hit on your future girlfriend-wife-person... much._

He ruffled a hand through his tree bark coloured hair, before he looked pointedly at River, _"_ The TARDIS, it didn't make the noise."

River frowned at him. "What noise?"

"You know, the..." The Doctor started to copy the wheezing and groaning sound the TARDIS made whenever it materialised or dematerialised somewhere. The three of us girls grimaced with second-hand embarrassment at the man-child who had managed to string us all along with him.

"Sorry Doc, but it's actually not supposed to make that noise. _You_ leave the brakes on." I raised an accusatory eyebrow at him, mostly out of amusement.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at me, the sulky look returning. His eyes immediately darted to River, a look of accusation filling his face, "This is your fault. You're a bad influence on her."

River looked scandalised, but like she didn't care either way. The Doctor grumbled for a second before he cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, it's a brilliant noise. I love that noise."

"No complaints there. It's Iconic." I admitted, breaking out into a grin. It was the first noise people heard when the Doctor was on his way. That call brought hope to millions.

Abruptly, the Doctor reached behind River and tugged on my arm, pulling me out from behind her as he graced River with the first distrustful look I had seen him give. There was a very snappy quality to this Doctor, I realised – knowing that the speed in which he operated often disregarded the feelings of some people.

 _It must be hurting River, having him look like the version she loved but not really... having him, I suppose_.

On the other hand, she looked unscathed; like the doctor was only being annoying in his suspicion of her. "Come along – Moore, Pond – let's have a look."

I sighed a long-suffering sigh, even though I had just known the Doctor for like, a day, "When all this is over, I want is my sanity back."

As the Doctor kept pulling me along, I felt my temper start to flare. Why did he have the need to tug me along like some sort of child?

I pulled my hand out of the Doctor's grasp, giving him my best 'are you kidding me' look, "Let me get something straight, Doc. A, you don't get to manhandle me. And B, you're being awfully rude to Ms. Song."

His long, hurried strides ceased – his eyes turning apologetic so fast that I almost felt bad for being so brash. He stood shocked still, tripping over any way to form a response. I could hear River cackle behind me, while Amy, who had just been watching us amusedly, snorted.

 _Dang, he's pretty cute when he's flustered –_ a random inkle of a thought graced me before I desperately had to resist the urge to smack myself. _No you idiot – don't even go there._

"I'm sorry," The Doctor eyed the spot where he had yanked on my arm, his face looking as though he had burned me. His eyes then went to meet mine, and I could see nothing but honest remorse.

I couldn't help but sigh. Honestly, I wasn't mad. Not even in the slightest – because I knew that there was a reason I couldn't see through to yet. _What was going on with him?_

I had a sneaking suspicion that there was something very, very different with **this** Doctor. Something that wasn't the same as the version I had grown to know back home. It was nothing too bad, I was sure – he was still the amazing adventurer with an uncanny glow to him.

But there was something erratic there – Like he was a man running out of time and he needed to make every moment count.

"It's alright, you silly man." I shook my head at him, feeling all my resolve leave me. I smiled secretively, my voice hushed as I whispered, "I know you want to show her up, so I'll be looking the other way for a _only_ minute. Don't let me keep you."

A hint of a smile, like a star on a cloudy night, threatened to break out on his face. And then, with a look of unassailable confidence – he tugged on his bow-tie, shot River a smarmy look, and began to walk calmly towards the door.

"No, wait! Environment checks." River called out to us, stopping me in my tracks, but the Doctor – ignoring her – kept going.

She rolled her eyes at his attitude, looking to me and sharing a long-suffering smile. What kept making me falter was the complete clarity I could see in her eyes. This was not the River Song people feared – the River Song who was stuff of legend and known throughout the far reaches of the galaxy for her many accomplishments.

This was Melody Pond. No facade. Just Melody Pond who was letting herself have fun.

I eyed her doubtfully. It would take a lot of getting used to. These people, they considered me a _friend –_ if the way River was looking at me was any inclination.

I didn't know about them, but the term 'friend' was a title I rarely gave to anyone. I had had many 'friends' before –paper friends – never the kind that you read about or saw across a room at a party, breathless from non-stop laughter. Honestly, a part of me always yearned for something like that.

 _Maybe I could find it with them?_

I turned towards the Doctor – determined to give all of this an honest shot. I walked to stand beside him at the doors, a timid smile playing on my lips, "Go on then, boy genius. Environment checks?"

His mind then returned to the task, fully acknowledging his chance to one-up River. The Doctor's eyes widened in fake shock, "Oh, yes, sorry! Quite right. Environment checks."

He stuck his head out the door.

"Nice out," His voice was positively dripping in sarcasm.

River peered at the monitor. "We're somewhere in the Garn Belt. There's an atmosphere. Early indications suggest that..."

"We're on Alfava Metraxis," The Doctor interrupted her, "The seventh planet of the Dundra System. Oxygen-rich atmosphere, toxins in the soft band, 11-hour day, and..." He stuck his head out the door again. "Chances of rain later."

River rolled her eyes and shot me a look, along with a knowing, secretive smile, "He thinks he's so hot when he does that."

The Doctor and I walked back up the ramp to join both girls at the console. Funny, for the shortest of seconds, River seemed a lot more indifferent about her flirtatious comment than she was in the show – maybe, it's because she wasn't talking to Amy this time round.

"How come you can fly the TARDIS?" Amy asked curiously, gold-green eyes dancing in the inquisitive way they did when she was beyond intrigued. She was, without a doubt, tired of being ignored.

A part of me felt bad I was staying indifferent when it came to her. I tried to get to know Martha, so it was only normal that I tried getting close to all the companions I came across.

"Oh, I had lessons from the very best." River drawled mysteriously, her flowy dress billowing around her as she turned to reply.

Meanwhile, from behind all of us, The Doctor smirked proudly, obviously thinking that he was the 'best' she was referring to, "Well, yeah."

"It's good that Fiona wasn't busy that day," She didn't miss a beat, allowing a vicious smile to spread across her lips. She winked at me as she picked up her shoes that were hanging off the monitor.

 _Oh, you had to be shitting me._

"No way."

I was actually buzzing with excitement, totally taken by the idea of learning how to fly the TARDIS. I could tell that my eyes were shining with a new sense of excitement as I turned to look between the Doctor and River, "Does that mean I can fly the TARDIS?"

"Spoilers." River rolled her shoulders, glancing at me with a charming look on her face – just as she simultaneously shot down the bubble of anticipation I had been building up. She turned her attention back to the doors, heading straight for them, "Right then, why did they land here?"

"They didn't _land_." The Doctor replied suddenly, making everyone turn and look at him.

River frowned, "Sorry?"

"You should've checked the Home Box," The Doctor's voice was foreboding as he followed River down the ramp, "It crashed."

Intrigued, River exited out the doors.

And yet, the very second she had stepped out – the Doctor had slammed them shut. He made sure that she couldn't unlock the doors after she was out of the TARDIS, before heading back to the console.

"Explain!" Amy demanded. She had been watchful over River, seemingly uncomfortable around the older woman. Or maybe she was just fascinated. "Who is that and how did she do that museum thing?"

A pause of silence was all the answer Amy got while she watched him promptly ignore her.

"Amelia – Dontcha' think we've got a bigger problem right now?" I nodded towards the door as I whispered to her under my breath.

I watched the Doctor expectantly, folding my arms while he worked at the controls. Amy crossed her arms as well, frustratedly mumbling 'it's Amy' under her breath, almost like she was a little girl again. In a voice that was equal parts stern and curious, I looked to the Doctor, "Why'd you shut the door?"

The man, instead of meeting my gaze, spun a wheel on the underside of the console and kept pulling levers at the same time, focusing all his attention on trying to get away. "Not really feeling this one, 'sides, we've got all of space to choose from, remember? Off we go!"

"What are you doing?" I asked him incredulously, grabbing onto and reversing the very last lever he had used to take us away. It wasn't like him to just leave someone. Even if he wanted to avoid River, he couldn't just leave her stranded. I knew she'd be fine, meeting up with the clerics and all, but the Doctor didn't.

"Leaving. She's got where she wants to go, let's go where we want to go." He spoke indifferently, like he wanted absolutely nothing to do with her.

Amy raised an eyebrow. "Are you basically running away?"

"Yep." He shot back nonchalantly.

 _He was doing it again,_ I thought – a trickle of worry rolling down my spine. It was like he was trying to move faster than his body could allow him – trying to match pace with his rapid mind.

"Stop that. Just stop for a second," I swatted his hand away from the lever, taking it in my own to direct his attention to me, "It's not like you to just leave someone."

"What's wrong?" I asked him, the two words coming out as what I realised were the most sympathetic I had used for as long as I had known him. I could never guess at why he was so opposed to River at the start, but all I knew – in that moment – was that I wanted to help.

It was then, somehow with those two words, the buzzing nature of his eyes and the twitching of his fingers seemed to halt – all his focus was on me.

"'Cause she's the future, our future" The Doctor's voice was just short of an urgent whisper. It was the first time he had looked at me properly, and for more than just a split-second since River got here, but he looked... scared.

As though he just wouldn't– couldn't deal with a stranger who seemed to know everything about him.

"Can you even run away from that?" Amy's confused voice broke through my thoughts.

It was then that it hit me. How could he just choose to run away from River but keep me around, even though he hated something we both shared in common?

Maybe it was catching up to me, but I felt an empassioned sort of rage clawing it's way back.

"Since when have you been someone that was scared of the unknown?"I raised an eyebrow at him accusingly, "Doc, you've been messing with the universe for centuries – it isn't surprising that something's finally caught up to you."

He was being stupidly immature, and if all it took were a few harsh words of truth from a friend, I'd be willing to oblige. Something in me felt hopelessly bitter. Couldn't he understand that I was in the same position as him? Meeting a man in the wrong order, who seemed to know everything about me? _Couldn't he relate to River in the slightest?_

"I can run away from anything I like. Time is not the boss of me." He took a second to reply, but the Doctor glared at us all the same.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're being a _tiny_ bit hypocritical, don't you think Doc?"

"How so?" The smarmy confidence was back as he stood waiting for a response.

I grit my teeth. " _You_ show up on _my_ doorstep in the middle of the night – somehow knowing everything there is to know about me – before wishing me away with a 'just so you know, you'll never see your family again'! You don't see me throwing much of a fit."

I ended, my chest puffing as I looked at him. I could feel that my face was red and fiery, as it got when I got too passionate about something. The look on the Doctor's face however, was one I hadn't been expecting. He looked like a blank canvas that had been stripped of any splotchy paint – utterly stark. All the rigidness had left his shoulders and the creases in his worried forehead had smoothened out.

It was then that his black face broke out into a genuine smile.

"Spoilers" The Doctor said, looking down at me with a lopsided smile. It looked like he wasn't fighting me anymore.

"Alright then," I huffed, hiding my satisfied smile. I was pretty happy that we could see eye-to-eye. "I'm glad you decided to stop being such a massive clod."

Before the Doctor could express how offended he was, it suddenly hit me, "is that a planet out there?" I asked him quickly.

"Yes," The Doctor rolled his eyes, the smile not disappearing. "Of course it's a planet."

"You promised me anywhere in time and space. I choose the spot out there." I tugged on his arm, my eyes glittering at a chance at adventure. "Please, let's go and see."

The Doctor sighed and stared at me for a second too long, obviously giving in to the infamous puppy-dog eye tactic. "Okay, five minutes!" He warned, finally breaking.

"Yes!" Amy, who had been waiting in anticipation, pumped her fist as the two of us ran for the doors, the Doctor following us.

"But that's all. Cause I'm telling you now, that woman is not dragging me into anything!" The Doctor shouted after us.

* * *

A soft, blue sky above, sharp stones underfoot and the clouds caressed with reflected light. The lacy waves were like a drumbeat that echoed the beating of a heart.

It seemed like a lovely day at a lovely beach, really. Except of course, for the huge, burning ship that had just crashed into a freaking alien temple – only a few feet from the oceans shore.

Other than that, it made a truly lovely picture.

The ship we had followed had crashed on top of an ancient, large stone structure. Dust and debris littered what might've once been a beach, large shards of stone lying close to the TARDIS. Parts of the star-liner were burning, alight in flames. All four of us were looking up at the fallen craft, at a loss of what to say.

"What caused it to crash?" River asked, breaking the silence. She quickly followed it up, "Not me."

"Nah, the airlock would've sealed seconds after you blew it. According to the Home Box, the warp engines had a phase-shift. No survivors." The Doctor explained solemnly, his mind seemed to be stuck on the people that had perished in the accident.

"A phase-shift would have to be sabotage. I did warn them." River glanced at him, her own tone turning to form that of the Doctor's.

"Anything else you warned them about?" I asked softly at her side, knowing that River knew something about that ship she wasn't telling anyone.

"Well, at least the building was empty. Aplan temple. Unoccupied for centuries." River glossed over my question quickly, something the Doctor _did_ notice. Instead, she began to key something into handheld scanner.

The Doctor and I walked back to Amy. He had tried to reach for my hand, but I shoved them into my pockets as quickly as I could. It seemed to be a habit for him; subconsciously reaching for my hand if we were stood next to each other. It seemed quite odd to me, especially since I hadn't seen him act that way with any of his other friends in this regeneration – always being a bit too quick or ahead when it came to Amy and Clara.

I'd been spending some time thinking to myself on how to act around him, coming to a conclusion as we stood there on the beach.

I knew I had to keep my distance, not only for River, but for his sake as well. I couldn't get too close to him – there was too much room for something to go wrong. Companions always left eventually, and it always killed him inside. It would be best for me to stay as unimportant to him as humanly possible.

 _So that neither of us gets attached._

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Amy asked uncomfortably, but with a sly smile playing on her lips.

"Amy Pond, Fiona Moore, Professor River Song." The Doctor introduced, gesturing to River.

River faced us abruptly, a slow smile spreading across her face before she gasped dramatically.

"Oh, I'm going to be a Professor some day, am I?" She asked, slyly. The Doctor winced at the slip. "How exciting! Spoilers!" She crowed, fixing Amy and I with a goofy smile before turning her attention back to what she was doing on the scanner.

"Oh, that's going to get annoying, isn't it?" I sighed a lot louder than I needed to, annoyed by the overuse of 'spoilers'.

"You have no idea." River winked at me, making me grimace at the thought of the future.

"You have _got_ to come up with a better word. Diversify a little." I mumbled under my breath, winning a cheeky smile from the woman herself.

Amy grabbed my hand and tugged me back when River looked back at her device. "Yeah, but who is she and how did she do that? She just left you a note in a museum!" She whispered rapidly in my ear, her accent rolling over the words. The Doctor, in the meantime, had walked off sullenly.

"Two things always guaranteed to show up in a museum: The Home Box of category four star liner and, sooner or later, them." River flashed us a knowing smile, "its how he keeps score."

"It's hilarious, isn't it?" I rolled my eyes like I had in the museum. I was still unsure about joining in on the adventure, cutting in on the dialogue, but I was surprised that I didn't feel unwanted. Like I had somewhat of a place there too.

River laughed along with me and Amy, who was unassumingly following along, while the Doctor just pouted and mimicked us sarcastically.

"I'm nobody's taxi service! I'm not gonna be there to catch you every time you feel like jumping out of a space ship." He warned River, pacing around the beach.

"And you are _so_ wrong. I happen to know someone who always convinces you otherwise." River crowed, before pausing. I was going to ask her who the 'someone' was before she ominously spoke out, "There's one survivor."

Her eyes narrowed at the scanner. "There's a thing in the belly of that ship that can't ever die." The Doctor went silent, gazing at River curiously. " _Now_ he's listening!"

She peered at the scanner, "You lot in orbit yet? Yeah, I saw it land. I'm at the crash site. Try and home in on my signal." She held up the device and walked off, looking around at the sky. She paused and turned to look at the Doctor. "Doctor, can you sonic me?" She held up her scanner. "I need to boost the signal so we can use it as a beacon."

The Doctor sighed exasperatedly, and took out the sonic screwdriver, using it on River's communication device. She curtseyed in that long black dress and proceeded to move through the wreckage.

"Ooh, Doctor! You soniced her!" Amy laughed, before she formed a sly look on her face, waggling her eyebrows with her eyes shifting towards me."Do you sonic..."

The Doctor flushed, cutting Amy off by clasping his hand over her mouth. I, on the other hand, was too busy watching curiously as River pulled out an all too familiar journal.

"We have a minute. Shall we?" River ushered us over. She opened her infamous TARDIS blue diary. The diary of old things, new things and everything in between. I caught sight of old, stained pages, making me wonder how old River really was.

"Where were we up to? Have we done the Bone Meadows?" She asked, calculating the looks on our faces.

"Could I see that sometime?" I asked skittishly. I never could resist an old book; the smell and feel of worn wrinkled paper was my favourite. Also, I felt like River's journal could help me get my bearings straight. Make me sure that this is a place I could belong to.

"Stay away from it." The Doctor warned me instantly, the look in his eyes pointed.

"Why? I probably know everything that's written in there." I crossed my arms, feeling quite like a kid as I returned the look determinedly.

"Not with the addition of you, love. Having you read the book would be just as dangerous as me having a peek." He ruffled my hair playfully, amused with my attempt at looking tough. His stern looks didn't seem to hold that long when he looked at me, making me wonder why he seemed so light when I fought back.

Amy frowned from the Doctor's left side, completely lost, "What is it though?"

"Her diary" He answered vapidly.

"Our diary" River corrected him, barely looking up from the book.

"Her past, our...future. Time travel. We keep meeting in the wrong order." The Doctor explained reluctantly. _An aversion to showing weakness seemed to be a big thing for him_ , I pondered. Whether or not it was singled out to this version of him was something I'd have to wait and see.

"Like me?" I peered into the conversation, my eyes glowing with curiosity.

"No." The Doctor and River shot back simultaneously, both heads shooting up and turning to look at me.

"You are much more wibbly-wobbly than anyone I've met" The Doctor exclaimed with a smile caught in between looking happy and sad, "A space-time conundrum really."

"I haven't been a part of this life – his life – as long as you have, Starshine." River remarked, smiling at me. "And instead of jumping around in flashes of light, I just meet the two of you in the wrong order. There isn't anything strange about it."

Without warning, columns of swirling sand, which I assumed were a form of teleport, landed on the beach, solidifying to reveal four soldiers in military uniforms. The men looked around wildly, taking in their new surroundings while the soldier at the front, middle-aged and ginger, approached River.

"You promised me an army, Doctor Song." The soldier said, sternly, looking a second away from aiming his gun at her.

"No. I promised you the equivalent of an army." River corrected him, turning towards the Doctor. "This is the Doctor," The Doctor gave the soldier a light-hearted salute, his childish attitude looking very out of place.

"And this is Fiona Moore." River nodded towards me, stopping me in my tracks. _Why would I be important enough to point out?_ My body went rigid as the much taller man seemed to suppress an opinion on my being there.

The soldier reached out and shook the Doctor's hand. "Father Octavian, sir," He turned to me and shook mine as well, "Ma'am. Bishop, second class. 20 clerics at my command. The troops are already in the drop ship and landing shortly. Doctor Song was helping us with a covert investigation." He paused. "Has Doctor Song explained what we're dealing with?" He asked, slowly upon noticing the Doctor's frazzled expression.

River sighed, turning to face us. "Lovelies, what do you know of the Weeping Angels?"

I watched on anxiously as the Doctor spun on his heel, his eyes snapping to River, his entire form had gone rigid. All I could do was stand watch and pray that he didn't blame me for not warning him.

* * *

We all ventured into the burning heap of the temple – it all resembling underground caves. Transport ships had arrived with soldiers rapidly setting up camp all around us. Octavian strode across the wet, rock ground, the Doctor, Amy and I following closely behind him. The humidity had gotten to me, forcing me to remove my scarf and jacket.

"The Angel, as far as we know, is still trapped in the ship. Our mission is to get inside and neutralise it. We can't get through up top, we'd be too close to the drives. According to this," He showed them his handheld device. "Behind the cliff face, there's a network of catacombs leading right up to the temple. We can blow through the base of the cliffs, get into the entrance chamber, and then make our way up."

"Oh, good." The Doctor sighed sarcastically, his expression indiscernible.

"Good, sir?" Octavian asked, frowning.

"Catacombs, probably dark ones. Dark catacombs, great!" The Doctor growled, his eyes alight in frustration.

"Technically, I think it's called a maze of the dead." Octavian continued, not understanding the Doctor's tone.

"How do you always get into these situations?" I whispered to the Doctor, my face contorted in alarm.

"Nine hundred centuries of travelling through time and space, and I still don't know." His grip on my hand tightened. _Shit, I didn't even notice him grab my hand this time_.

"You can stop any time you like." He told Octavian, dryly.

"Father Octavian?" One of the soldiers called for him.

"Excuse me, sir, ma'am." He bid us a half-hearted farewell before marching off, The Doctor waving him off as he left.

* * *

It was just Amy, the Doctor and I now, left to snoop around the content on a nearby bench. Before we could get talking about the enemies on our doorstep, I cleared my throat to get the Doctor's attention. Holding our joined hands up in an obvious manner, I conjured my best questioning face.

"First things first, why _are_ you holding my hand? Afraid I'll get myself lost?" I drawled on with half-lidded, scrutinizing eyes. The Doctor had looked lost until it suddenly seemed to click for him. He looked as though he was in an internal debate on whether or not to let my hand go.

"My hands are rather cold. I'll be needing to use my rather tremendous brain, so I can't be stuffed worrying over cold hands." He eyed the hands like he had just given me all the answer I needed. His voice was way too charm, face way too stoic and casual compared to the nervousness I felt bubbling and fizzling in my chest.

 _What in the world was this man?_ I forced myself to ignore my thrumming heartbeat, trying to pick apart some logic from the bizarre request. _Well, he is very arrogant at times... I suppose he would ask for a human-hand-heater if it'd help him avoid something as trivial as the cold._

"...I guess that's understandable. Weird, but understandable" I conceded hesitantly, realising that I'd probably do the same if I were a loud-mouth, extroverted alien with companions lined up to prove themselves worthy. "But why are they so _rough_? Your hand feels like sandpaper, do you work in a farm?" I huffed, vaguely annoyed, but not making any attempt to pull my hand away.

"Oh please, not my fault your hands' are so bloody soft. I swear you've never worked a day in your life." He 'humph'-ed, just as smug as he had been back on the ship.

It was when Amy's voice broke us out of the meaningless little squabble we were having that I realised how close we were standing. How the look on the Doctor's face wasn't really one of genuine annoyance, but of a kind of softness. And finally – how wrong it all was. "If you two would stop flirting, could either of you tell me what a Weeping Angel is?"

I sharply tugged my hand out of the Doctor's, suddenly not caring about what he ever wanted in the first place. _'Flirting', what a laugh,_ I mused half-heartedly as the Doctor used his sonic on some of the equipment set up on the table. It might've been my imagination playing tricks on me, but for a second, the corners of his ears seemed pinker than they had been.

"They're a species of quantum-locked humanoids." The Doctor explained, not taking his eyes off the equipment on the table.

Amy blinked, "What do you mean by 'quantum-locked'?"

"When they aren't being observed, they can move very quickly and silently, so that they can send their victims back in time. When they are being observed they are 'quantum-locked', occupying a single position in space and becoming stone." He explained carefully, gauging her reaction.

"Oh, don't they sound lovely?" I remarked sarcastically.

"Oh, believe me, they really aren't." The Doctor silently fumed, obviously worried over the imminent threats.

"You're letting people call you 'sir'. You never do that." Amy prodded him, hopping onto the edge of the table to sit. "And you," She begun, addressing me now, "You don't really care, right?"

I started pondering over the notion. I guess it was weird, having someone refer to me all official-ly-like. I was just some eighteen year old kid, from a small town in the middle of nowhere, I never thought I'd live to see the day anyone saluted _me_. "It's strange for sure. I guess I just don't like the idea of being held in a 'higher regard' than any other human being here."

The Doctor glanced at me out the corner of his eye, grinning with pride. I couldn't help the urge to scratch the back of my head awkwardly. His was a dangerous kind of appraisal – a kind in which you felt that if 'The Doctor' (fancy timelord with all of his titles), were to look at you like that, it'd be difficult to not get a big head.

"So, whatever a Weeping Angel is, it's really bad, yeah?" Amy looked at us, trying to wrap her head around the topic.

"Now that's interesting..." The Doctor mused. His eyes widened in fake shock, "You're still here. Which part of _'Wait in the TARDIS till I tell you it's safe'_ was so confusing?"

"Oh, are you all Mr. Grumpy Face today?" Amy asked mockingly, pulling faces at him and making me snort a laugh.

The Doctor let out an exasperated sigh. "A Weeping Angel, Amy, is the deadliest, most powerful, most malevolent life form evolution has ever produced, and one is trapped inside that wreckage and we're supposed to climb in with a screwdriver and a torch, and assuming we survive the radiation, and the whole ship doesn't blow up in our face, do something clever which we haven't actually thought of yet. That's our day, that's what we're up to. Any questions?"

I had already begun backing up, moving in the direction of the camp – completely unbeknownst to Amy and the Doctor. I knew where the conversation was heading next, and I didn't want any part of it.

Relationships had always made me uncomfortable, especially those pertaining to other couples. While it was fun to watch the Doctor and River's relationship progress on the telly – when they were just fictional characters – I didn't think I could feel the same way now. I didn't know whether it was because they were real, the fact that I was a part of their world, or something else entirely – all I knew was that it felt icky and weird.

' _Sides, I really didn't know the Doctor well enough to be listening in on his love life, now could I_? I didn't stray that far, going off only to a point where I couldn't hear them directly.

"Are you and ... married?... known her for ages and she's from your future too... your past... She's..." I could pick up traces from their conversation, but was doing my best to give them space. I made myself look focused on studying the cracks in the large rock walls that surrounded us. A tiny part of me wondered whether there were any gemstones hidden under and between the crusts.

I chose to catch a glimpse of the pair from behind me, only to directly catch eyes with the Doctor. His expression was uneasy, but like he had been observing me ever since I began to stray. He wordlessly seemed to ask me what I was doing. Flushing with embarrassment, I started fidgeting with my sleeve as I made my way back to them – having been found out.

"I am definitely Mr Grumpy Face today" Was all I heard as I reached the wooden bench, "There you are, always wandering off aren't you?" The Doctor asked with an exasperated expression that could only say he was used to it.

"Yeah well, I didn't think you'd notice." I countered, unable to look him in the face. His watchfulness over me was odd – a smidge too close for my liking.

"You're always first priority to me." He mumbled, patting my head affectionately. We were interrupted when River called out from one of the transport vehicles.

"Doctor? Fiona!" She stuck her head out, "Father Octavian!"

The three of us began walking towards the transport, catching eye of Father Octavian who had been distracted from his work.

"Why do they call him Father?" Amy asked the Doctor quietly.

"He's their Bishop, they're his clerics. It's the 51st Century, the Church has moved on." The Doctor explained to the _both_ of us – for some reason.

Even though I was well-informed about most the things that were happening – with him knowing that I did – he never excluded me from any of his explanations. The thought warmed my heart. He was a rollercoaster of a person to be with, that was sure, but it was from the small things he kept doing for me that I thought; _he might actually be a decent guy._

* * *

A large screen in the vehicle showcased black and white footage of a stone statue – a Weeping Angel – it's body at an angle to the camera with its' hands over its' eyes. River had changed out of her black dress and heels, and was now suited in the same uniform the soldiers were wearing, her messy blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. She was carefully controlling the video with a remote.

The Doctor and River were quick. I knew that once they began discussing the angel, they'd go off into a bubble of their own. Amy and I would be lucky to get a word in.

"What do you think?" River asked. "It's from the security cameras in the Byzantium vault. I ripped it when I was on board. Sorry about the quality. It's four seconds. I've put it on loop."

"Yeah, it's an Angel. Hands covering its face." The Doctor informed her.

Father Octavian looked at him. "You've encountered the Angels before?"

"Once, on Earth, a long time ago." The Doctor answered grimly, his breath hitching. "But those were scavengers, barely surviving."

"It's just a statue." Amy questioned amusedly.

"It's a statue when you see it." River corrected.

I had been leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, half looking into the discussion and half facing outside. _All these soldiers – They're so completely alive._ I watched as the men, young and old alike, all moved around the make-shift base, each one following the orders they had been given _._

 _They must have friends... families._ I could feel my heart swell for them. _This isn't right... in a few hours – most of them will be dead or erased from time itself._

I had to do something. The Doctor had to help. We couldn't just leave them to their deaths.

I peered back into the armed tent, my mind numb to anything the Doctor was saying to River. All I could hear was my own heartbeat thrumming in my ears, leaving me to study his features. Inaudible words flowed scornfully through his mouth, and even though he didn't look outright angry – I could tell.

There was a quiet rage there.

An anger that the doctor felt towards any and all of the monsters he fought. He's always had that, I thought – It's just that this regeneration seemed to have a different way of showing it. Eleven was so careful with himself, that even when he was _seething..._ he hid it all away, faking utter calmness and composure.

It's another reason I never really bought the 'goofy puppy in a fez' bit he had going on. Not completely. Cause even if he could be completely immature and childish, in the most endearing way – there was that darkness that scared the hell out of me.

A part of me wondered what caused him to turn out that way, since there _were_ determining factors that generated each regenerations personality. The time war had caused Nine to regenerate into the gruff, guarded man I had seen on screen, whereas his love for Rose is what caused him to regenerate as a love-struck romantic – into Ten. Eleven was just a bit harder to interpret.

I couldn't help but feel for the man. He deserved so much – I had always thought so. I just wished the universe would give him something good that would stick.

Getting my mind off how I felt about the man, my head popped back to the matter at hand – to the episode with Nine and Rose in which they accidently saved her father from dying. Saving even the most ordinary man could be the biggest change in the universe, it could change everything; rewrite time itself.

So what side-effects would saving these men bring about?

I had to shut my eyes. _My gut wrenched._

 _No. Screw that._

 _That wasn't good enough._

 _I knew what I had to do._ With as much information as I could recall, I was going to save as many people as I could.

"...The Weeping Angels can only move if they're unseen. So legend has it." Rivers voice faded back into recognition.

I shook my head. "Not a legend."

They all seemed to jump at the sound of my voice, except for the Doctor. His expression seemed worried, but for more than just the topic at hand. His head tilted in the universal sign of what a questioning look was. I shrugged off his concern, faking a quick smile to hide my fear.

 _Oh god, I was actually scared_ – Isn't that rich, coming from a girl who watched horror movies with a straight face, never flinching or even after always seeking out the fastest rides in an amusement park – just to prove that I was tough enough.

"No, it's not legend, it's a quantum lock. In the sight of any living creature, the Angels literally cease to exist. They're just stone. The ultimate defence mechanism." The Doctor carried on, seemingly contempt with my excuse.

 _With this smile, I could get away with anything,_ I mused smugly, _even being able to trick clever aliens._

"What, being a stone?" Amy clarified, confused.

He looked at the red-head grimly.

"Being a stone – until you turn your back."

* * *

The next thing we knew, the Doctor had begun ambling out the carrier, waving his arms about as he started to ramble off important information.

"The hyperdrive would've split on impact. The whole ship is going to be flooded with radiation, cracked electrons, gravity storms, deadly to almost any living thing."

"Deadly to an angel?" Octavian asked, carrying the slightest bit of hope.

"Dinner to an Angel." The Doctor corrected. "The longer we leave it, the stronger it will grow. Who built that temple? Are they still around?" He asked, hurriedly.

River looked down at her handheld device that was buzzing with all the data she could need. "The Aplans. The indigenous life-form. They died out 400 years ago."

"200 years later, the planet was terraformed. Currently there are six billion human colonists." Octavian explained.

"You lot, you're everywhere!" The Doctor said, incredulously. "Like rabbits! I'll never get done saving you." He shook his head in annoyed amusement. I had to stop him wandering off by pulling at the back of his jacket, halting him immediately.

I briefly wondered how long I was going to be there, tugging at the back of whatever absurd outfit he'd wear, anytime he wanted to get ahead of himself and do something stupid.

I had followed the Doctor, hot on his heels, rolling my eyes at his self-satisfied comments but still repressing an amused grin – "Full of yourself, as usual."

"Would you have me any other way?" He ran his fingers through his hair, shooting me a smile. His arm seemed to wrap itself around my own, jolting me with the weird spark that seemed to rise whenever he did that. His expression was the same worried one from the drop ship as he looked at me, demanding my complete honesty. "Are you seriously alright? You don't seem like yourself." His voice was low so that the others couldn't overhear.

"What?" My eyes widened and I instinctively took a step back, out of arms reach of him.

No one, not even my mother could tell when I was hiding something. Years of practice to fool the people closest to me and yet... _here had to come this prat_.

I schooled my features into those of indifference, doing my best to look amused at his worry. "Course I'm fine. Cool as a cucumber" I pointed finger guns at him before grimacing at antics.

I began to turn, ready to walk back to the rest of the gang before I heard him sigh. Not an annoyed or tired sigh, but a sad one. The kind of sigh I often heard myself make at the end of a long, miserable day at work, when all I wanted was to curl up and listen to the rain.

Then in the tiniest voice, thinking that I couldn't hear him, he mumbled to himself, _"You promise_ _d."_

I whirled back to him, afraid I'd misheard, "Promise? Promise what?"

In an instant, he looked as though he'd been punched in the gut. My words seemed to have quite the effect. He laughed a laugh that held no trace of joy, at no one and at nothing in particular, looking past me as he said, "Oh, my dear. You _are_ young. And it's breaking my hearts."

The Doctor opened his mouth, hopefully ready to not be so vague, before we were interrupted. _Great, another thing to add to the already long list of questions I had for him._

"Sir, Ma'am," Octavian stopped our strange confrontation. "If there is a clear and present danger to the local population..." He trailed off.

He took a second to seemingly recover before working back into his hyperactive self, "Oh, there is. Bad as it gets. Bishop, lock and load."

The look he had in his eyes, it was like he was expecting something of me. Some kind of an inside joke, or a private secret, as if we were friends that had stuff like that between us. He almost seemed disappointed when I couldn't give him what he needed, and that vagueness was all I needed for my thoughts to become a weird frustrated jumble.

"Verger, how we doing with those explosives? Dr. Song, with me." Octavian ordered a displeased River Song.

"Two minutes." River told him sharply. "Starshine? Sweetie! I need you!" She called out.

The Doctor's eyes widened as he realised _he_ was "sweetie", mouthing the nickname to me as if it held a bitter taste in his mouth.

I knew that there was going to be a lot of strife over the 'timelines' and ways in which I'd meet the Doctor, but I needed more information to work with aside from context clues and vague comments from the man himself.

I was going to have to talk to him properly, even if he did say there wasn't much he knew about my situation.

I was so wrapped up in thinking on how I was going to talk to the Doctor, that I didn't notice a particularly antsy red-head slip into one of the carriers.

Nor did I notice the door close shut behind her.

* * *

River showed the Doctor and me a worn-out journal, telling us that she'd found a definitive work on the Angels, written by a madman. The Doctor had been criticising the inner workings of the book, having read it in a manner of seconds, before I sat down on one of the stools aside from River. I peered nervously between the pair, not thinking that it'd be the best time to talk to the Doctor if River was there. Though, as soon as I began glancing around and tugging on my bottom lip with my teeth, River stood up and excused herself, walking past me as she did so. With the bat of a single eyelid and a curve in her smile, she left me dumbfounded.

 _Wow, she must have cat-woman's senses to guess what I'd been thinking about - probably picking up hints from body-language and other things that cool spy's knew about. A regular Natasha Romanov, she was.  
_

I grimaced as the trace of another thought hit me.

 _Oh geez, I hope she doesn't get the wrong idea in me wanting to talk to the Doctor._

"Hey Doc? I've been meaning to ask you-" I begun, observing his face for his reactions. I wasn't sure how he'd react to me after the weird 'promise' thing, but I needed to try.

"-You're worried about your abilities." He met my eyes for a split second, looking up from his work to smirk at my blank face. "I've figured most of it out – what with the nine hundred years I've been alive and all. Can't tell you though, got to keep that secret for now, sorry dear."

"Right, because _spoilers_." I drawled on sarcastically, taking a moment to pout at the bizarrely accurate deduction he made. "Also how is it that you keep doing that? The last time I checked, Time-Lords weren't psychic."

His chest subconsciously puffed with pride before he schooled it into a sincere one, "I'm not psychic. It's like I told you, love – I. Know. You." He gloated, not seemingly trying to piss me off, but doing so anyway.

I dismissed his asshole-y attitude, folding my arms and resting my head dejectedly on the table. I looked at him, my eyes turning desperate as I appealed to him, "There's gotta be something you could tell me, Doc. I'm going to die out here if I stay clueless."

His eyes left his work as he furrowed his brows at me in frustration. I let out a victory laugh as he sighed, submitting to my killer charms.

"There's a certain bond between you and the TARDIS. You go where she goes. And since I'm the one who flies her, I just happen to be the one you stumble into." He explained carefully as I listened in rapt attention, taking a minute to process the information. "From what I know, it takes you to where you're needed the most. Not just by me, but whenever and by whomever as long it's in my timeline."

I tilted my head at him curiously, watching in interest as his eye twitched,"Does that mean that you needed me, when I showed up here?" My heart felt oddly warm at the thought of being 'needed' by another person, the feeling beyond irregular.

"I always need you, so I don't count." He leaned over the table slightly, patting my hair with a saccharinely sweet smile. I pulled an antagonised face as he continued, "Plus, it does depend on your knowledge and where you are... mentally, of course."

"What do you mean mentally?" I fixed my gaze on him.

"Well – It's more like, where you are with me. How long you've known me and... such." He returned hesitantly, cringing at his own words.

I blinked, getting flustered before going over it logically.

 _It made sense I supposed. It'd be weird if I met a regeneration that was super touchy-feely, just because he was better friends with me, if I wasn't remotely like that._

"That's a weird thing to factor in, isn't it? Though, considering that this is _your_ timeline and I'm sure you probably know me quite well, I guess it makes sense." I nodded at him.

"Mhm, you also have a certain modicum of control on it, I believe. Meaning that if you wanted it badly enough, you could force yourself to jump" He suggested, watching my face with a smile as I couldn't help but express my fascination.

Considering that I needed to take time and study over all that the Doctor had explained to me, I let out a long-winded sigh, burrowing my face back into my arms. The Doctor, a man who's known for making people better, just snickered at my strife. I peered up from the cracks in my makeshift pillow and stuck my tongue out at him, "This is a lot harder to deal with than it looks and I don't think you realise that."

I waved off a few more of his entertained chuckles, turning to the side to observe the sandy haired blonde that had just left us. River was busy instructing soldiers around, catching angry words with Octavian every now and then. I could understand the way she felt, just because I knew her story. Watching the episode back home, everyone was just as suspicious of her as the Doctor was now, since we were meeting her through his eyes. Although now, I knew she had to be hurting. River Song – _Melody Pond_ being a stranger to the person she cared about more than anyone.

"Hey," I beckoned to the Doctor in a more thoughtful voice, "Don't you think you should lay off River for a bit? Give her a chance."

He instantly blanched, looking like he was ready to present me with a list of thirty arguments that suggested he _shouldn't_ give River a chance. He had barely opened his mouth, in the middle of raising a cross pointer finger before I cut him off.

"I know you don't know who she is yet, but she means well. She isn't some undercover spy you constantly need to worry over," I insisted, hating how suspicious he was of her. "She does a good job at hiding it, but it's hard for her. Trust me."

"Yes, you'd know all about that." He eyed me doubtfully, clearly insinuating something.

"Shut up" I shot back, not wanting him to avoid the subject, but even more strongly wanting to stray from _my_ problems.

 _Getting ready to try and save lives was something I hadn't needed to think about yet._

The Doctor groaned, his features glowering, "How does she know who I am anyway? I don't always look the same."

"She's got pictures of all your faces." I explained dryly, since she wasn't here to do it herself. "Apparently, you never show up in the right order, either. She'll need a spotter's guide."

The Doctor's eyes widened, realisation striking him. "Pictures? Why aren't there pictures?" He gasped.

 _There was something wrong. Something I was forgetting._

"Ms. Song! We need you!" I called out to River, thinking that I'd do a better job at remembering if she were there. She came bounding over, my voice a good indication that it was urgent.

"This whole book, it's a warning about the Weeping Angels, so why no pictures? Why not show us what to look out for?" The Doctor kept rambling, not even noticing River had returned.

"There was a bit about images. What was that?" River picked up on what he was saying instantly, adjusting a few of her curls back into her ponytail.

"Yes! Hang on." The Doctor read the passage in a flash. "That which holds the image of an angel becomes itself an angel."

"What does that mean? An image of an Angel becomes itself an Angel." She asked, confused.

That was the last thing any of us could say before we heard pounding on metal – vague screaming emanating from behind the door of a carrier no one had been paying any attention to.

" _Amy."_

* * *

 **Afterword: Heyo! It's done, phew. I am vaguely proud of writing this much, since it isn't common for me, but it definitely is so much more fulfilling once I'm done.**

 **I know it might seem like the OC's knowledge on what happens is a bit convenient and dodgy at parts, and some of you might hate her forgetting about Amy; but let's be honest, the Doctor as well as Amy's own daughter forgot about her during the end part. Hopefully, that's easier to see and accept when you see it through this perspective.**

 **I also hope you guys notice little details of how she looks up to this idea of him. An idea that the Doctor brings hope and happytimes, but still recognising that he has flaws. I definitely will be expanding on these ideas as she slowly starts to realise that there are more sides to him than all she picked up from the show.**

 **If there isn't something you find all that good or realistic, please do leave a review since I'm very interested in finding out.**

 **I hope to have the next one up soon so that you don't have to be left on a cliffhanger, but see you till then!**


	7. Chapter 7 - Flesh And Stone

**Will We Meet Again?**

 **Chapter 7** **-** **Flesh & Stone**

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! Sorry for the egregiously long wait for this chapter – a lot was happening for me in the real world. But to make it up, this chapter's the longest one I've written so far – with over 10,000 words. I debated whether to split it into two parts – but I figured that we'd never get through this adventure if I kept it going longer than two or three chapters per episode.**

 **We have one more episode after this with the Weeping Angels so I hope this chapter will be good enough for the wait.**

 **A 'guest' left a very sweet comment last chapter that had some very good questions I feel I should address (also, thank you, your English is great!). They asked what I would be doing in terms of classic who – which is something I initially thought I would wait to add to the story. But now, having watched up to the third Doctor – I think I've found a way to play this into the story.**

 **If you've noticed in some areas of the story – like the hallway scene with Eleven – a part of him is a bit desperate to keep her around, like he doesn't see her that often. I think, since his Eleventh regeneration** ** _was_** **supposed to be his last regeneration (Before the time-lords gave him a new cycle), he knows he doesn't have very long with her – so her visits are much less frequent with him.**

 **She'll slowly be moving further along his past in chapters to come. And no – I won't be writing chapters for each 'Doctor Who' episode – so think of it as her just randomly skipping to these places for now. I'll be picking some of the best of each Doctor's episodes – so leave me a comment if you want to see any one in particular.**

* * *

 ** _._**

 ** _Entry no. 6_**

 _Toska (Russian)_

(n.) an ache of the soul, sorrow and longing mixed to create a spiritual anguish.

 _The grief of an unshakable act._

 ** _._**

* * *

 _Amy_.

I had forgotten about Amy.

I could have ripped my own hair out, I was so angry at myself for forgetting. Here I was trying to think of ways to save people – somehow forgetting about the most important one there.

The three of us all shot up, finally picking up on the commotion and rushing to the drop ship. The air turned cold, as if the life in it had been completely sucked away. My limbs felt increasingly stiff, almost like they were freezing up. The guilt and panic were so overwhelming that I was physically incapable of doing anything other than staring on in dismay.

 **"** Doctor!" Her shrieks were mostly muffled by the metal walls encasing her, "Fiona! It's in the room!"

"Amy!" The Doctor banged on the door hurriedly, trying to get her attention. "Are you all right? What's happening?"

 **"** Doctor? Doctor, it's coming out of the television," Amy whispered in fear.

"The Angel is here."

The Doctor paled. He took out his sonic screwdriver and began using it on the keypad. "Don't take your eyes off it! It can't move if you're looking," He ordered her from behind the door.

Concentrating on moving at least one hand, I brought my shaky fingers to my side and harshly pinched the skin on my hip. Regaining my senses from the pain and mentally slapping myself awake, I unfroze.

 _I could have prevented this, if I just said something. This was my fault, and I'd be damned if I didn't help fix it._

I stepped forward and stopped the Doctor from working, hiding how unsure I was about this, "No good using the sonic. It's deadlocked the whole system by now."

Walking past the frantic alien timidly, I went up to the door and pressed my cheek against the cold metal.

"Amy. You need to listen to what I say very, very carefully, okay?" I tried to keep my voice fast but steady, not wanting my own anxiety slipping through. _She was scared enough for the both of us._

"Fiona! What do I do?!" Amy's voice picked up on my instruction.

"Just breathe, Pond. The screen. You'll need to find a way to turn it off." I tried calming her down, speaking partially to myself, "Think you can do that?"

"I tried," She cried in frustration, her voice hitching on a sob.

"Try again," I called gently, raising my voice so that she could hear better, "But don't take your eyes off the Angel."

It didn't even occur to me that River and the Doctor had both immediately taken my word over the ship being deadlocked. They were both watching me give the red-head instructions, while River was simultaneously trying to cut through the door with her pistol torch.

The Doctor seemed to have picked up on what I was getting her to do and why – his own eyes sparking at the idea. It was strange – both the time-travelers seemed to have a great amount of trust in me and my conclusions. The thought was reassuring, and soon I found myself speaking a little more confidently.

"Each time it moves, it'll move faster. Don't even blink," The Doctor called out to Amy, his arm coming up to the wall beside my head as he strained to have his voice reach her. It all happened a bit too fast, and since my mind was a bit muddled with thoughts of Amy, I didn't register how he quickly planted a kiss on my temple, thanking me for my help.

Working a million miles a second, the Doctor ran back to the book to look something up. It took me a second, but when it hit me, fire crept up my neck and settled in my cheeks.

 _Frick, who just does something like that?_

I rubbed the spot on my forehead, my heart beating like a hummingbird at the unfamiliar show of affection. "He'll be the death of me at this rate," I muttered to myself.

"What was that?" Amy's voice broke me out of my thoughts. "It just keeps switching back on."

"Yeah, that's the Angel," I growled silently. I knew I was changing how this scene was supposed to go, but I didn't care. All I wanted was Amelia safe. "Amy, there are four seconds of footage, right? You need to find the blip, the fraction of a second where the footage cut's out. End the video on that."

"Fiona, what's it going to do to me?" She asked bluntly, her voice laced with dread. "Just tell me."

"Just focus on ending the video, Pond. You can do it." I banged my forehead against the barrier, praying to every god I knew that she'd be safe.

I cared a lot about the snarky girl, even though I had just grown fond of her through a screen. She was as much a part of my soul as any other fan, and I was going to make sure she lived to see the wonderful life she was going to lead. I caught a glance of River; eyes alight with worry for her mother as she tried to cut through the steel.

Sympathy crashed down on me, making me pity the situation she had to be in. I looked to her beseechingly, "River, you can't cut through. It's not physically possible _..._ but don't worry. We'll get her out."

"Amy, not the eyes!" The Doctor's voice rang through the air abruptly, yelling from his space by the book, just as River gave me a small nod. He ran back to the door with alarm clear on his face, "Look at the Angel but don't look at the eyes."

"Why?" And "What is it?" both Ponds' questioned simultaneously, River giving up on the torch and making her way to stand by my side.

"The eyes are not the windows of the soul. They are the doors. Beware what may enter there." He recited lines from the book ominously.

Before we knew it, the heavy door rose, static noise filling the air. The Doctor, River and I rushed in to meet a distraught, out-of-breath Amy. "I froze it. There was a sort of blip on the tape and I froze it on the blip. Like Fiona said. It wasn't the image of an Angel any more. That was good, yeah? It was, wasn't it? That was pretty good. "

"That was amazing," River breathed a sigh of relief, her voice proud.

The Doctor took a second, all wide-eyed and out of breath, before he pulled out his sonic and made his way to the screen. "River, hug Amy and Fiona," He asked of her, not turning to look at us.

"Why?" Amy furrowed her brows, glaring at him and crossing her arms as if offended.

"Because I'm busy," He stopped momentarily, flashing us a grin as he thought. "And because they were brilliant."

"We're fine." I grimaced slightly, noticing Amy's uncomfortable, offended expression at the thought of being comforted. A feeling that I wasn't a stranger to at the moment.

"You're brilliant. Both of you." River patted my head affectionately, throwing her other arm around Amy's shoulder.

"Thanks. Yeah, I kind of creamed it, didn't I?" Amy gloated, taking in the praise.

I took a second to think about the repercussions of having changed things. The Doctor and River were the ones who were meant to save Amelia, but I sped up the process by telling her exactly what she needed to do. Nothing changed, though – right? Everything that was supposed to happen, happened. I suppose this would be alright – making sure people were safe without taking risks that were _too_ big.

 _Yeah, I could keep this up. Changing small things, moving them along faster. I'd keep them safe._

"So, it was here?" River hastily tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. "That was the Angel?"

"That was a projection of the Angel. It's reaching out, getting a good look at us. It's no longer dormant," The Doctor answered her, seemingly lost in his own thoughts and trying to think two steps ahead of the enemy.

In an instant, the loud, deafening roar of an explosion shattered the pleasant moment of triumph we were having. All of us seemed to flinch, while I almost jumped out of my skin. The nerves of what had happened were still running rampant through my blood, because I knew it wasn't over; I had no reason to feel safe yet.

The Doctor, who was already standing quite close to me, placed an arm over us almost out of instinct. River turned towards the sound, her own senses much faster than the rest of us. The Doctor, after making sure everyone was alright with a quick once-over, collected himself and rushed to the door.

"Last one positive." A cleric informed Octavian, just as the Doctor and I managed to make it outside.

Octavian met our eyes the second we emerged from the trailer, "Doctor? We're through. "

"Okay, now it starts" The Doctor uttered, letting the thought hang in the air. He gulped heavily, looking over at me with half a smile and eyes lidded with hope. There was an obvious twitch in his hand as he gazed at me somewhat hopefully.

I sighed, catching on to his silent plea and rolling my eyes.

"Fine."

I held out my hand, looking away from the doof and trying poorly to suppress an amused smile at his antics.

He smiled a big, yappy grin, all traces of dread gone. He beamed so brightly when he was happy that I couldn't help a chuckle escape at the sight of him. Regardless of who I knew him to be, this version really had a disarming quality to him. He'd persevere and push till you had to choice but to get strewn along with whatever he was going to do next. Sliding his fingers through mine, we took our first steps into the dark chamber, our hands serving as the one small connection we had as the light drowned out from around us and a chill struck the air.

* * *

All of us descended down a rope ladder, Amy being the last after River.

Soldiers began ambling about, taking all types of measurements of the surrounding area by the barely illuminated light, emanating from the hole above us.

The blackness engulfed my thoughts. Stretching out in front of me like a map – the unknown seemed to be testing my fears, my courage and my knowledge. Taking small, tentative steps further in, one thought became increasingly clear.

 _There was nothing good living here._

That was simple, no thriving population, and no signs of past living. The darkness had overcome any sense of purity, consumed all hope of cleanliness and had wiped out all desire in that large cave system.

"Do we have a gravity globe?" The Doctor asked Octavian.

"Grav globe." Octavian indicated to a soldier behind him, holding out his hand. One of the men took out a white, translucent sphere from his pack, handing it to Octavian.

"Where are we? What is this?" Amy asked with inquisitive eyes, looking around at the jagged walls.

"It's an Aplan mortarium. Sometimes called a maze of the dead." River explained, just as intrigued but a lot more spooked.

I broke through the tense conversation, involuntarily letting out a laugh at the look on Amy's face.

"Come on, Amelia. Gotta love a ghost story," I clicked my tongue at her, winking as I enjoyed how peeved she was at me, "Make it one for the scrapbook."

"That's the spirit." The Doctor chided, still looking out into the dark. I swear he could get enthusiastic about anything really.

Amy huffed, crossing her arms."So, what's a maze of the dead?"

"Well, if you happen to be a creature of living stone _..._ " The Doctor swung his leg, dropping the globe and kicking it into the air like it was a football. It rose into the air, stopping and then bursting into a great big ball of light, turning the entire cave bright enough to reveal a large number of stone statues.

"…the perfect hiding place."

"I guess this makes it a bit trickier." Octavian sighed.

The Doctor nodded along, half-laughing."A bit, yeah."

"A stone angel on the loose among stone statues. A lot harder than I'd prayed for." Octavian commented.

From behind the Doctor – I breathed out in awe, taking a few steps closer.

It took a second or two for the new sight to sink it, even though it was right there before my eyes, larger than life. I could feel my lips stretch wide into a gaping grin as I savoured the feeling of seeming ant-like in relation to the towering size of it all.

"You've got to admit – it's beautiful. Terrifying, but beautiful still. Like discovering an ancient Mayan temple on earth, or any other lost civilisation, this is amazing."

 _And it was._ Aside from the terrifying thought that all the decaying, stone statues were actually Weeping Angels.

They went on for miles; hundreds and thousands of carvings.

The Doctor smiled a smile that brought out each happy crinkle around his eyes. His lips curved as he marvelled behind me, "Humans. Never too scared to appreciate new discoveries, eh?"

I smiled at him, recognising his signature love for human beings, "Nope. Although, finding the angel in this's gonna be like trying to find a needle in a haystack."

"A needle that looks like hay. A hay-like needle. Of death. A hay-like needle of death in a haystack of, er, statues," The Doctor ranted, looking at no one and nothing in particular. I sighed dramatically, making it just obnoxious enough to let him know to get back to the situation at hand.

"Nevermind, yours was fine," He said, slightly sheepish.

"Right. Check every single statue in this chamber. You know what you're looking for. Complete visual inspection. One question, how do we fight it?"Octavian asked.

"We find it, and hope," The Doctor concluded just as he, Amy and I begun to trail down the path.

I was honestly just following them around – not really knowing about the schematics that came with exploring the area. Either my knowledge really was waning in the couple months since I had seen this episode – or T.V shows really did do a crummy job at showing a clear course of direction.

River made to follow us as we traversed farther into the maze, but Octavian grabbed her by the arm before she could move.

River was a bit slow, but she eventually caught up. I could only guess that Octavian had stopped her to have a little 'chat', since he did threaten her quite a lot this episode. _This adventure – not episode_ , I mused, reminding myself once again that this was real life now. This adventure, Octavian would keep hassling her over what she did.

 _The reason she was there._

My heart clenched painfully, before I mentally face-palmed at my own forgetfulness. The Doctor doesn't die. She doesn't _actually_ kill him. The happy-go-lucky, very _alive_ man at my side lives to go on much longer than the people he was with now. I stuffed the nervous energy as far back in my mind as I could get it to go, my hand tightening ever so slightly around the Doctors as I dreaded possible days to come.

We were now in the heart of the maze, trailing along rock and stone ridden pathways to try and find the angel that had fallen from the Byzantium.

The four of us began to start up the terraces, Amy and River trailing behind the Doctor and me. Out the corner of my eye, I could see Amy pause to rub her eye, River momentarily stopping with her.

"You all right?"

I bit my lip nervously at that thought. Amy was sure to have gotten the angel stuck in her mind... but I couldn't have changed that, I don't think. Considering future events, there was too much depending on having the Doctor and Amelia split up, and I didn't know what I'd be messing up if I interfered. Anyway, the main thing was that she was going to be _fine_.

"Yeah, I'm fine. So, what's a Maze of the Dead?" She quickly changed the topic, her voice turning playful.

"Oh, it's not as bad as it sounds. It's just a labyrinth with dead people buried in the walls. Okay, that was fairly bad. Right give me your arm. This won't hurt a bit." River said as she injected Amy in the arm with a tiny gun.

"Ow!" Amelia squealed.

"There, you see. I lied. It's a viro-stabiliser. Stabilises your metabolism against radiation, drive burn, anything. You're going to need it when we get up to that ship." She ranted evenly before tugging on my wrist to halt me. "Starshine? It's your turn."

"Do I really need that thing in my arm?" I shot the gun a look of distaste. Noticing River's stern, expectant face, I sighed resignedly and rolled up my jacket sleeve. The pain was unlike any shot I'd ever had; instead of the normal prick, this was like having a jagged piece of glass tear into you. "Son of a-"

"-Language!" The Doctor called out from in front of us. He was still busy fiddling with the device in his hands.

"So what are they like? In the future, I mean. Because you know them in the future, don't you?" Amy whispered to River after I had returned next to the Doctor.

I began to slink back into my thoughts – with no attention on me; it'd be easier getting some time to reflect.

It was strange being at the front of the group. Strange being at the front of anything really.

I had always been one to walk in the back, my head held low to avoid confrontation. Yet, it seemed like I hadn't left the Doctor's side the whole time since we left the TARDIS. As I knew, he was quite the showman, always in the centre of it all. Now it felt like I was right on stage with him, spotlight shining directly on me, making it impossible for me to slink back into the shadows.

I didn't feel like myself – it was like I was living through the eyes of a character completely unlike the girl I was back home. Something this grand would never happen to someone like me, so I couldn't help but feel disconnected.

"I wasn't listening. Neither is Fio. We're busy."

I jumped, my eyes readjusting from the glazed stare I probably had on.

I realised that they were probably having a whole conversation in the time I'd been lost in my own little bubble, "Hm?"

The Doctor furrowed his brows, his lips taking the shape of a crooked little smile, "You alright?"

"Yeah – just zoned out," I stuttered. My first trip and I was barely living in the moment, now was I?

"Sorry."

"Not a problem," He smiled, lime coloured eyes dancing around in the darkness. I noticed he was playing around with the device a bit carelessly as he continued to look my way.

I grinned, internally laughing at his strangeness. "Oh, Doctor? It's the other way up."

I took the device from his hands and flipped it around, remembering how I had seen River hold it earlier.

"Yeah," He nodded his thanks, ears turning pink as River barked a laugh from somewhere behind us.

I could hear Amy giggle alongside her, followed by some hushed whispering between the two girls.

"You're good. I'm not saying you're right, but you are very good. "

I shot them a curious look, eager to join in on the apparent gossip. Instead, both girlies just waved at the air with a look of forced casualness, leaving me alone with my biting curiosity. My heart was teetering towards thinking that I just wasn't good enough to be a part their friendly banter – but I really didn't want any glum thoughts to plague me in the moment, so I just brushed it aside.

* * *

We had just reached the entrance chamber when an almost deafeningly loud ringing noise caught the attention of everyone.

All disconnected members of the party, clerics and main characters alike, regrouped – heading to where the sound came from. We stumbled upon a young, frail man with shaky knees, his hands trembled as they stood wrapped around his rifle.

"Sorry, sorry. I thought- I thought it looked at me." The young cleric apologised profusely, his voice shaking as he looked at a statue in trepidation.

Octavian, ever the patronising prick, shot the man a horrible glare, "We know what the Angel looks like. Is that the Angel?"

The poor guy, with his head hung in shame, just seemed to wince at the words, "No, sir."

Octavian held his stony glare, his eyes cruel, "No, sir, it is not. According to the Doctor, we are facing an enemy of unknowable power and infinite evil, so it would be good, it would be very good, if we could all remain calm in the presence of decor."

I couldn't take it. It was one thing seeing an abuse of power through a screen, but it was a completely different thing watching the poor man's heartbreak reflect in his eyes – his posture slumping to a point where I wondered how he was even standing.

And maybe he just reminded me of myself a bit too much.

"You know what'd really be good? If you were to show your men some common decency and earn their respect by not mocking them," My voice was sharp – so cold it almost stung. I fixed Octavian with a glare that gave him every intention of what I thought of him. "It's a spooky cave and everyone's on high alert. I reckon his was a reasonable response."

Octavian visibly wilted before me, his pale eyebrows almost shooting off his forehead. I watched River smirk exuberantly, with some clerics having to suppress their amusement from behind us –Octavian's face turning puce as a result.

Before he could utter a stilted response, I saw the Doctor go up to the young, startled man – his face kind as he placed a hand on his shoulder, "What's your name?"

"Bob, sir" He replied timidly. Memories of the man came rushing back – and I felt my insides twist in worry.

 _Bob. Angel Bob. How was I going to stop that from happening?_

"Ah, that's a great name. I love Bob." The Doctor smiled widely at the man. The alien seemed foolish and casual, but I couldn't help but smile at how he was undoubtedly trying to calm Bob down.

Bob blushed scarlet, a little smile working it's way onto his face, "It's a Sacred Name. We all have Sacred Names. They're given to us in the service of the Church."

The Doctor chuckled warmly, his eyes holding a wisdom that reflected his age, "Sacred Bob. More like Scared Bob now, eh?"

"Yes, sir" Bob ducked his head shyly.

The Doctor then smiled cunningly, "Ah, good. Scared keeps you fast. Anyone in this room who isn't scared is a moron." His eyes fixed on Octavian as he clearly hinted at a deeper meaning – before going back to his jovial self, "Carry on."

I couldn't help but smile from my spot in the background.

They said that kindness was a show of weakness – that it was nothing to be commended. But honestly, wasn't it just as great as bravery? Or strength? Even wisdom?

Standing there watching the Doctor look the kindest I had ever seen him look – I knew that he was someone who just loved and loved and loved. He loved the human race – anything good and anything living – with such compassion that I just couldn't even try to contain the respect I felt for him.

Even with douche-bags like Octavian, he always found something worthwhile in the eyes of other people – And _that_ was rare.

Octavian had seemingly recovered from my words in the time in which the Doctor had talked to Bob. He straightened the lapels of his uniform with a huff.

"We'll be moving into the maze in two minutes. You stay with Christian and Angelo. Guard the approach." Octavian called out to Bob as everyone began to head back to their duties.

 _"_ _No!"_

I called out without thinking – I couldn't just let the boy walk to his death.

River, Amy, Octavian and the Doctor all turned to me with questioning looks.

 _Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit- What did I do?_

"What I meant was–" I floundered, completely conflicted. I had to save them – Bob, Christian and Angelo were men who were going to die if we left them behind. But if I asked them all to stay with the group – I'd look too suspicious. I felt my heart break as I settled on an answer, "What I meant was – Sacred Bob should stay with us don't you think?"

I was met with blank stares – except the Doctor who looked at me warningly – like he knew what I was thinking.

All I could do was ignore him as I pressed on, "He's alert and cautious. It's like the Doctor said, 'scared keeps you fast' – hate me all you like but I think keeping him around would be beneficial."

Following Octavian's suspicious gaze, I looked to him knowingly, "And so you can keep an eye on the kid."

Seemingly thrown, Octavian took a second to contemplate. He didn't like me, but surely there must've been some logic to what I said if he was willing to change his orders.

He nodded his head vaguely in my direction, seemingly satisfied – before roaring another command over to his men, "Bob, stay with the main group!"

A hand shot out to grab my wrist, sparing any pressure. The Doctor looked to me with wide, skittish eyes, his voice low, "What have you done?"

I looked to him, my heart almost faltering.

What could I say to him? I didn't have anyone I could confess the truth to.

"Just trust me on this" I looked straight into his eyes – my expression concealing any and all jolts of the fear I kept feeling. I wanted to believe my own words just as much as I wanted the Doctor to.

I could just hope and pray that I was doing the right thing.

* * *

The group had travelled further into the maze until we reached a point where you couldn't walk five steps without brushing against a statue.

"Isn't there a chance this lot's just going to collapse? There's a whole ship up there," Amy called from father ahead of me.

I knew that all the time-travellers were about to banter amongst themselves until the collective penny dropped and they realised that the statues were all weeping angels. It was the pinnacle 'Oh shit!' moment in the episode – but instead of joining in, I had lagged behind the rest of the group, not really feeling up to having light-hearted rows and jokes thrown about.

 _I had just left two men to die. How the hell was I supposed to feel anything but shitty?_

 _I could've – I_ _ **should've**_ _found some stupid way to convince Octavian..._

My heart was sunk lower than I remembered it could go in a long time. God, what I wished to just be home right now – on a Saturday night, with no work the next day – just me and Jackson eating badly-made pasta right out of the pot.

We'd probably be watching 'Mr. Bean' or 'Sponge-bob' or something _..._ it didn't matter what we watched as long as he liked it.

The cicadas always seemed to sing for us on nights like those.

"Um- Thank you ma'am- F-for standing up for me."

A slight but familiar voice broke me out of my self-berating thoughts. Bob – Sacred Bob – stood walking beside me now, his tall frame hunched in embarrassment. He was blushing an even darker shade of red than when Octavian had been chastising him.

I felt my face involuntarily lighten – Something about the innocence in his face reminding me of the boy I had just been thinking about.

I smiled up at him sweetly, so glad that I managed to get one of them safe – "That's alright, Bob. Octavian was just being a bully to make himself look good – someone had to say something."

He shrugged slightly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

I looked at Bob thoughtfully, my head tilted to peer at him, "I can see it in your eyes – the panic's still there. What's gotten you so scared?"

He startled like a deer in the woods, almost toppling as he took a large step backwards – the gun almost slipping out of his hands. He took a second to recover before a half-hearted smile crept up his face, "not the angel, this time."

I looked at him expectantly, willing him to explain. He seemed almost unwilling to share whatever he was saying to me – his dark eyes darting around like a trapped animal.

" _..._ It's the Doctor," He started, his eyes twitching, "It's just- I'd been raised on stories that he was a god."

I snorted, suppressing most of the peals of laughter that came barrelling out. Just the thought of the man being a vengeful god who had stories written about him – it was understandable – but it was a _bit_ much.

"Don't let _him_ hear that – I'm afraid his shoulders won't be able to support the weight of his head if you do," I sniffed, an amused grin stuck to my face. "Do tell – what do they say about him? – In your stories?"

Bob smiled at me kindly, dark eyes confused but polite, "That he could topple cities and defeat monsters of all kinds. That he was unstoppable. Some versions said only a single thing could make him weak – but I don't know much about that."

It looked like a flip had switched, with the man feeling as though he had to keep talking about what ailed him – with a trace of disappointment he continued, "But he's just a man."

I felt my smile waver. Bob looked like a kid who'd just been told Santa Claus wasn't real.

"And what's wrong with that?" I asked him meaningfully. "Isn't it inspiring that he's more like you than you thought? That you could do great things too someday?"

I was excluding the part where the Doctor was practically a step away from being immortal, but the words seemed to get the effect I wanted, after all.

Bob's eyes lit up as he turned to look at me. I saw the edges of a conceding smile start to rise before a voice rung out. It was the Doctor's voice.

 _"_ _Nobody move! Nobody move! Everyone stay exactly where they are. Bishop, I am truly sorry. I've made a mistake and we are all in terrible danger."_

Ah, that'd be the penny.

I lost Bob in the scattering of bodies as clerics huddled close together, after the Doctor explained not to touch any statue while they all stood still.

Though, being the rebel I was, I managed to worm myself along the line of moving soldiers – Being several inches shorter than all the hulking men working to my advantage. I stopped when I saw the familiar strands of straight, auburn hair – Amelia. I slunk to her side, tapping her shoulder to let her know I was back.

She jumped in her shoes, turning to face me, "You scared me!"

I smiled at her, seeing the wide-eyed, bushy-tailed look of a squirrel reflected on her, "Well, I _am_ naturally terrifying."

She crossed her arms at me, "Maybe next time, try and not scare the crap out of me in a cave where we're looking for a killer statue then."

I mock saluted her, wanting to get back into the action, "Dually noted, Pond."

She turned towards me, eyes questioning as she watched my face, "Where've you been?"

"I was talking to Bob," I gave her a short answer, sending a silent thankful prayer to Bob for being a great alibi – since I knew I was shit at lying on the spot.

Amy just seemed to hum, looking entirely unconvinced. Her pink lips curled into a devious little smirk as she nodded, "The Doctor just looked a bit narked when you went off. I reckon he doesn't like this 'Bob'?"

"Hm? Oh! No, they're cool-" I was hardly paying attention to what Amelia had said, my eyes drifting to the Doctor kept pacing around only a few feet ahead of me. He was standing next to Octavian who seemed worried and suspicious, and River who seemed scared shitless.

"What danger?" Octavian practically growled.

"The Aplans" River started, standing so still it looked like she was afraid the floor would break out from under her, "They've got two heads."

Octavian looked at River like she had gone mad. "Yes, I get that. So?"

"So why don't the statues?" The Doctor almost whispered, his eyes skittering over the statues with a new sense of fear.

"Everyone, over there. Just move. Don't ask questions, don't speak."

With those words from the Doctor, we all began pushing and moving into an alcove away from the statues. It was a cave mouth of impenetrable blackness – as I stepped in I watched my shadow dissolve into the surrounding darkness. It was dank and the only sounds were that of dripping water and shuffling feet.

As we were hustling, I felt someone grab my hand.

The Doctor's grasp was almost as light as a feather, even though his posture was as stiff as a board. It was just a touch, but it still gave me all I needed – to know that he wanted me to walk with him. As I turned to look at him, what struck me was the hesitant look in his eyes – they flickered over my face, as though he were reminding himself of what I looked like.

Standing rigidly, he fidgeted with his cuffs – before his fingers ran severely through the messy, brown locks on his head. I couldn't tell if it was the stress of the situation that was getting to him, or something else entirely.

"Make sure not to wander off, yeah? Weeping Angels aren't a joke. Stay close," His voice was weirdly stilted – like his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

All I could do was watch and wait in silent concern. How could I _not_ be concerned?

This man – who I knew to possess a silver-tongue that reflected the glint of his sharp wit in every situation he had ever faced – had never been more unreadable.

His gaze then flickered to something past my head – and just for a single, doubtful second, his face looked so very, very _cold_. I almost had to rub the exhaustion out of my eyes to confirm that I wasn't tripping and simply imagined the look.

But then, as soon as it arrived – I felt the lingering trace of warmth leave my hand. He went to walk by, a peculiar static passing through and breaking me out of my shock as he brushed past me.

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

The familiar fragility of a voice filtered back into my mind. I turned to see Bob, all hunched shoulders and questioning eyes. Apparently I had stopped moving with the disappearance of the Doctor's presence.

"Yeah, I'm good Bob..." My voice trailed. "L-let's keep moving yeah?"

Without waiting for a response, I moved further and further into the alcove – towards where I knew the Doctor was progressing the story. He and River would be testing the lights to see if the statues could move or not – while me, Amy and all the clerics fled to find a safe space behind them.

I didn't want to admit it – but I was beginning to come to a conclusion that the Doctor was the one person here that I couldn't decipher, no matter how hard I tried. I drew a blank from the whole exchange we'd just had.

Knowing the character was one thing. It was something I thought that I was good at – breaking down a character to see what they lacked and what gave them strength.

But now, in _this_ situation – the Doctor was real, with his emotions revolving around something to do with me. And now, being faced with something so unlike anything I had faced before – all I _could_ do was draw a blank.

"Okay, I want you all to switch off your torches," The Doctor's rigid back was the only thing I could see – as he never once turned away from watching the statues. I could imagine his clever green eyes dancing around the landscape with a strange clarity.

Soldiers left and right could only pass around confused looks, none of them understanding what was wrong with him – "Sir?"

Annoyed, the Doctor almost growled, "Just do it. Okay. I'm going to turn off this one too, just for a moment."

"Are you sure about this?" River asked from behind him – her question striking a tension that forced everyone and everything else to go silent.

I couldn't see the Doctor's face, of course, but by the slight wobble of his posture and the light tilt of his head, I could tell that a small smile was playing on his face as he answered.

"No."

The lights went off, and all we were left with was the all-consuming darkness of the cave. The intensity that came with a lack of complete light was something that made all the wispy hairs on the back of my neck stand up in alarm.

 _Especially since I knew what was moving around in that darkness._

As soon as they went, the lights came back on – only to reveal that all the statues were now looking our way.

"Oh, my God. They've moved," Rivers voice broke through the panic that arose in the room.

Before she could even finish the thought, the Doctor began to run down the passage – it being filled with statues coming towards us, "They're Angels. All of them."

"But they can't be." River stuttered, paralysed to the spot.

"Clerics, keep watching them." The Doctor watched them with calculating eyes – his jaw grinding teeth together.

"Every statue in this Maze, every single one, is a Weeping Angel. They're coming after us."

* * *

Gathered at a vantage point that overlooked the maze, we all stood a good distance away from the newly discovered angels. My previous desire to explore the old caves had long since evaporated, leaving no trace it was ever there. Now I couldn't help but miss the salty, fresh air I had hardly even noticed on the beach.

"But there was only one Angel on the ship. Just the one, I swear."

River was panicking.

At least that's what I considered her version of panicking to be. She kept a straight face, just as she always seemed to do. But her eyes – Rory's eyes – were wide and dilated. It's no wonder she was so scared – she had the most reason to hate weeping angels out of all of us.

"Could they have been here already?" Amy asked after River, completely unbeknownst to her future daughter's alarm.

"The Aplans. What happened? How did they die out?" The Doctor waved his arm vaguely, waiting for a response.

"Nobody knows" River told him.

"We know." The Doctor looked grim. A second after, his gaze met mine and his ever-present look of curiosity seemed to grow. In a soft voice he asked me, "Did you?"

The question struck me as odd. Why wouldn't I know? Didn't he know I knew about all the adventures he went on?

Maybe it was his way of confirming I knew what _this_ regeneration did. I had to admit that what I knew about the Doctor would stop at a certain point – after all, 'Eleven' was the last reincarnation I knew. I _had_ heard they had got a new actor to play 'Twelve', but I had never gotten around to seeing who it was – it made me wonder if I'd ever get to meet a regeneration who was a stranger to me.

Nevertheless, I nodded my head at the Doctor – waiting for the anger I'm sure would follow. Surprisingly, all he did was nod back once, seemingly impassive to the fact that I had the answers in my head but wasn't sharing.

In fact, it was like a game had just begun for the Doctor. He began watching me, a funny little smirk playing on his lips as he did.

"They don't look like Angels," Octavian broke in – his expression unsurprised as he watched me answer the Doctor. I suppose he knew about the foreknowledge bit.

"And they're not fast. You said they were fast," Amy eyed the Angels wearily, "They should have had us by now."

"Look at them. They're dying, losing their form. They must have been down here for centuries, starving," The Doctor looked as though he were trying to peer into my mind, his eyes holding an unasked question. Did he _want_ me to slip?

No, he was testing to see what I'd do. Of course I knew the answer, but would I tell him or not?

I put on my best poker face, my own smile making a return. I think I knew in that moment – saying 'spoilers' would've been a bit too boring.

"Image is power, isn't it?" I couldn't help myself – his energy was almost infectious, the competitive bastard.

"Their image is their power. Power..." The Doctor's eyes buzzed – his mind working a million miles per second. His glowing eyes were a great indicator that it had finally hit him, "Power!"

"Doctor?" Amy asked wearily.

"Don't you see? All that radiation spilling out the drive burn. The crash of the Byzantium wasn't an accident, it was a rescue mission for the Angels. We're in the middle of an army, and it's waking up," His eyes met mine and he absolutely beamed, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, Doc." I shook my head at him – it wasn't like I actually did anything, he would have figured it out with or without me. "We need to get out of here fast."

"Angelo, Christian, come in, please. Either of you, come in," Octavian spoke into his radio.

 _Oh no._

 _This was it – the moment I could've waited an eternity before we got to._

 _What could I have done? I didn't even know the repercussions of saving one man, let alone three._

Instead of Bob's hesitant, naturally apologetic voice that rang through the radio, another less familiar one spoke up, "It's Christian, sir."

Octavian just continued to speak normally, completely in the blue about what Christian truly was, "Christian, is Angelo with you? All the statues are active. I repeat, all the statues are active."

"I know, sir. Angelo's dead, sir. The statues killed him, sir." The voice spoke back, a perfect mockery of a scared young man.

The Doctor then grabbed Octavian's walkie-talkie, "Christian, it's me, the Doctor."

"I'm talking to–"

"Where are you now?" The Doctor continued interrogating Christian.

"I'm talking to my–" Octavian tried again.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, shut up." The Doctor snapped at him.

The speaker blared, "I'm on my way up to you, sir. I'm homing in on your signal."

"Ah, well done, Christian. It was like I was telling Bob, remember? Scared keeps you fast." The Doctor's voice was light – he looked proud to have heard the man escape. "Your friend, Christian – What did the Angel do to him?"

"Snapped his neck, sir" The voice returned monotonously.

"That's odd. That's not how the Angels kill you. They displace you in time. Unless they needed the body for something," The Doctor commented vaguely.

"Christian, did you check Angelo's data pack for vital signs? We may be able to initiate a rescue plan" Octavian offered – completely unbeknown to how Weeping Angels operated.

The Doctor just huffed, "Oh, don't be an idiot. The Angels don't leave you alive. Christian, keep running. But tell me, how did you escape?"

"I didn't escape, sir. The Angel killed me, too"

The collective silence that rang out was worse than anything I could've imagined.

It laid on the skin like a poison. It felt like it was seeping into my blood, paralysing my brain.

To make things so much worse, the Doctor's eyes flickered to me – and I had no idea how he must've felt seeing me. I felt like I was a second away from sobbing, my eyes bright with unshed tears – I'm sure I looked it to. I had crossed my arms tightly across my chest, leaving my hair to fall over my face – half concealing it.

 _I think I would've very much liked to disappear at that moment._

With eyes never leaving me, the Doctor asked slowly, "What do you mean, the Angel killed you?"

"Snapped my neck, sir. Wasn't as painless as I expected, but it was pretty quick, so that was something," Christian's voice said conversationally.

"If you're dead, how can I be talking to you?"

"You're not talking to me, sir. The Angel has no voice, so it stripped my cerebral cortex from my body and re-animated a version of my consciousness to communicate with you."

"So when you say you're on your way up to us..." The Doctor almost groaned, picking up on the big picture.

"It's the Angel that's coming, sir, yes. No way out."

"Then we get out through the wreckage." Octavian started, his eyes sad but his face stuck in the same stony expression. "Go! Go, go, go. All of you run."

"Doctor, Fiona?" Amy called as she made to leave. She had been shooting me inquisitive little glances the whole while – her eyes actually looking genuinely concerned. All I could do was shoot her a tiny smile that said 'I'm alright' as I felt the glossiness in my eyes dull down.

The Doctor just waved her off, practically shoo-ing her away, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, we're coming. Just go. Go, go, go."

 _Well, here it came. I expected nothing less from him than absolute fury – it was what I deserved after all._

 _Only a complete psychopath wouldn't have prevented two easily preventable deaths – and from the Doctor who held human life to such a high regard, what could I ever say to make it right?_

The worn softness of two large palms at the sides of my face was enough to make me flinch – but not in the way I thought I would. The Doctor had both his hands over my cheeks as he looked down at me – his eyes tender.

I was just so caught-off by his eyes – thinking of them as if I were being allowed to think completely outside the situation. As if we were just two normal people who were being allowed to observe the other for the first time.

 _His eyes were so bright – like they were made of stardust and then cut right out of the sky._

"You alright?"

And like that – the moment was gone.

We were back in that dark, dank cave, with the lives of two men on my hands.

I looked away from his eyes, my own growing heavy again. I could only strain to look down at my feet – my voice coming out as a strangled whisper, "I'm sorry."

"Stop that – right now, love." The Doctor shut me down, his voice pressed by not angry. His face seemed pleading as he continued, "What did I tell you that night? With Shakespeare – in that crummy, old room?"

Without even waiting for a response he went on, his knees bending so that we were eye level, "I told you that it wasn't your job to save people – I'm telling you now that it's mine."

"But I could've prevented this!" I looked to him, not seeing how he could just brush this off. A life was a life – and he could not always save everyone.

"And I told you there could be consequences. The life of a single man is enough to change the course of the universe's future!" He met my eyes with equal fervour. "I know you saved, Bob. When you told Octavian to keep him – I was stupid at first, thinking _..._ –But now I know why."

I remembered the cold look in his eye from before – that couldn't have been directed at Bob, could it?

I just shook my head at him, "So what, am I just supposed to leave people to die? Everywhere you go – there's always someone who could be saved!"

"I don't want you going around, throwing yourself into danger." His gaze was levelled, like he was putting the whole argument to an end, even though he still hadn't answered my question.

We could've gone on bickering for hours – but the sound of a single forced cough was enough to divert our attentions.

Octavian stood a few feet away – everything about him seeming awkward.

The Doctor's hands fell deftly from my face, everything about him quickly switching to that of a casual quality as he turned to address Octavian.

"Called you an idiot. Sorry, but there's no way we could have rescued your men" The Doctor spoke in that detached, yet still sympathetic way he did when he tried to console someone he didn't really like.

"Apparently there was one way, sir." Octavian looked past the Doctor – straight at me, "Apologies, but I overheard."

His face was the same way I had seen it look the whole time I had known him, but his eyes – his eyes held pure spite.

"Octavian–" The Doctor warned – his voice a low growl, willing the man to drop it.

Octavian settled the intensity of his eyes back on the Doctor, "I know, sir. And when the two of you've flown away in your little blue box, I'll explain that to their families."

And like that, Octavian brushed past us – his face hard. The Doctor and I watched him pass.

The guilt was like gasoline in my guts – my insides dying slowly in the toxicity, needing no more than a spark to set them ablaze. But I decided to suck it up – I would grieve for the young men in my own time. For now I couldn't hold up the story, perish forbid, my whining actually caused the death of someone else.

"Don't listen to him – he doesn't know what he's talking about." The Doctor tried, reaching out for my hand again before I pulled away.

"I could take him," I muttered, wanting the Doctor to know I was fine. I flashed him an unassuming smile when he snorted. To be honest, I didn't feel half the irritation towards Octavian as I had felt when I was watching this on the telly – mostly because I knew he had a point.

"Yeah, I'm sure you could."

"I'm gonna go on ahead, okay?" I looked over my shoulder, knowing full well that he still had to talk to Angel Bob– well, I suppose it was 'Angel Christian' now. Just a single worried look from him made me raise an arm to quell it, "I'll be fine."

With that I rushed along the rocky path, trying to make up for lost time. As I ran, I felt like there was a prodigious courage pushing inside me, demanding me to be brave and strong. I never had this kind of bravery before – the kind that made me realise my life was less important and that I was needed for something far bigger than myself.

In this case, the bigger thing being the thought that no one else was going to die tonight.

I bolted down the rocky path like an Olympic champion at the start gun, only slowing when I saw a familiar flash of cherry-red hair, "Amy!"

She was exactly where she was in the episode, bent over with her hand seemingly stuck to the boulder at her side. I saw normal human skin where I'm sure she was seeing stone – briefly reminding me of when Karen Gillian had first played the role of a soothsayer from the episode with Pompeii in it.

"Amy, you need to move" I looked at her with wide-eyes, my voice commanding.

"I can't. No, really, I can't," She mumbled, her eyes straying from my face to look behind me – back to where I knew the angels would come from.

"Amelia Pond, listen to me very carefully," I was so close to just yanking her hand off the rock, but I knew she needed to realise herself, "You just think that it's stone – it's all in your head!"

"I just can't!" She cried.

I huffed. The Doctor would be running past any minute now, I was sure of it.

"Oh well, you know what they say, panicking burns a shit-ton of calories – so that's a plus," I smiled at her – half-amused and half-'losing my goddamn mind'.

"Who even says that?" She asked – completely straight-faced.

I looked at her and winced, "Me. Just now."

It was then that the Doctor took the glorious moment to join us, practically running past as he yelled, "Don't wait for me. Go, run."

"She can't!" My voice stopped him.

"Why not?" His brows furrowed, his eyes doing a once-over and finding nothing wrong.

Amelia's voice was blank as she answered, "Look at it. Look at my hand. It's stone."

"You looked into the eyes of an Angel, didn't you?" The Doctor shut his eyes – completely exasperated.

Amy winched, her expression turning sheepish, "I couldn't stop myself. I tried."

"Listen to me. It's messing with your head. Your hand is not made of stone." The Doctor tried reasoning with her, moving to stand in front of her while I moved to keep watch from Amelia's side.

"That's what Fiona said, but it is. Look at it." The Doctor stared blankly at her arm, the same way I did.

"It's in your mind, I promise you. You can move that hand. You can let go."

"I can't, okay? I've tried and I can't. It's stone."

"The Angel is going to come and it's going to turn this light off, and then there's nothing I can do to stop it, so do it. Concentrate. Move your hand," The Doctor's voice was growing more and more agitated.

"I can't." Amelia's voice was strong even though her teeth were chattering in fright.

"Then we're all going to die," I voiced flatly, not as panicked since the angels weren't in sight yet.

Amy turned her head to glare at me – "You're not going to die. Neither one of you."

"They'll kill the lights, Amy," I looked to her as well, my voice soft as I pleaded.

"You've got to go. You know you have. You've got all that stuff between the two of you and that's all got to happen –" She started, her voice sad, "Fiona's told me stories of what happens on your travels when you're younger and she can't die – she hasn't gotten there yet. You know you can't die here either, Doctor."

"Time can be re-written. It doesn't work like that." The Doctor's eyes turned melancholy, as though he were considering what it'd be like if I were actually erased from his past.

I was going to bring a hand to shoulder – remind him of what we needed to do – before an angel, all decrepit and unlike its original form came blinking in at the door-way.

"Keep your eyes on it. Don't blink," The Doctor warned.

Amy was having enough as she pushed at my arm, "Run!"

"We're not leaving you, silly girl." I clamped my hand over hers, stilling her frantic fingers and trying my best to be the least bit comforting.

She just groaned in dismay, "I don't need either of you to die for me. Do I look that clingy?"

"Absolutely not, Pond," I laughed – it didn't take a regular Einstein to know that Amy was the complete opposite.

Then, in the flash of the moment, something felt off.

Maybe it was the lighting in the cave or the adrenaline pumping through my veins – maybe it was just the good old panic, but the angels seemed like they were a bit too close for comfort – far closer than they had been on the show.

"Oh Amy, you're lovely and magnificent. I'm sorry for this," My voice was low as I looked to the Doctor, winking from outside Amy's field of vision.

I could almost hear the trace of a sob in her voice as she responded, "its okay. I understand. You've got to leave me."

"Oh, no, we're not leaving you. I'm sorry about _this_."

And with that I bit her hand, my teeth sinking into the flesh sharply enough that she'd feel it.

She yelped like a startled Pomeranian, "Ow!"

I tugged her along as I heard the Doctor laugh beside me, "See? Not stone. Now run."

"You bit me!"

I grumbled under my breath as the three of us darted farther down the cave system, "Oh, now's _not_ the time to be offended, Amy – also, if you noticed, you're alive."

"Look, I've got a mark. Look at my hand." She threw her hand in front of me, where an impressively large red mark was beginning to form.

"Yes, and you're alive. Problem?" I huffed at her – small smiles playing on both the Doctor and my faces.

"Blimey, your teeth. Have you got space teeth?"

All I could do was roll my eyes at the ginger-haired girl, my voice dryer than I'd ever heard it go, "Nope, a hundred percent human. And also – you're alive. Congratulations."

* * *

As we neared the end of the long path, I could almost hear the faint voices of the clerics. The pathway we had been walking – much like an abandoned tunnel – was like a great grey snake, curving and unfurling out before us – The whispers serving as some solace that we truly weren't in the belly of a great beast.

"Clerics, we're down to four men. Expect incoming." Octavian's gruffly voice faded back into clarity as the Doctor, Amy and I rounded the last corner.

"Yeah, it's the Angels. They're coming. And they're draining the power for themselves." The Doctor responded, breaking back into the group dramatically.

Surprised faces turned to great us as Octavian responded, "Which means we won't be able to see them."

"Which means we can't stay here" The Doctor corrected.

"Any suggestions?" River walked up to the Doctor, her curly blonde ringlets falling messily from her bun. I couldn't blame her – I thought the stress was getting to everybody.

 _God, I always had been a fan of the whole action-adventure thing about this show – it's what made it so good – but now I couldn't help wish I'd been more of a Rom-Com girl. Maybe that way I could've ended up in the lead role to a John Hughes movie, instead of in a freaking space adventure with a Time-lord._

"The statues are advancing on all sides. We don't have the climbing equipment to reach the Byzantium," Octavian surmised, looking glumly at the little supplies they did have.

"There's no way up, no way back, no way out. No pressure, but this is usually when you have a really good idea," River stressed.

"There's always a way out." The Doctor's voice rang – his eyes electric as they buzzed around for a solution. "There's always a way out."

I suppose it was slightly narcissistic to think, even for a second, that the Doctor was almost completely akin to human beings in everything except his lifespan and cardiovascular system.

I mean he _did_ appear completely humanoid, like a young boy that still seemed to retain the innocence – yet not the naivety – of that of a child. A young boy with outstanding deductive and analytical powers yet still, at heart, a child.

But it was absolutely delusional to think that he'd be like anything from this earth.

Him standing there was what seemed to make me realise.

His thoughts seemed to trundle through his brain like a high-speed rail train, with no intention of stopping. Something about him just buzzed with such an inhuman quality – advanced in a way I wasn't sure a human could reach.

It was when he turned around did I know that he already knew exactly what he was going to do to get us out of there.

The buzzer of the extension radio rang out like an annoyed rattlesnake, promptly cutting through the panicked silence, "Doctor? Can I speak to the Doctor, please?"

"Hello, Angels. What's your problem?" The Doctor responded, breaking out of his reverie.

"Your power will not last much longer, and the Angels will be with you shortly. Sorry, sir."

The Doctor looked to the speaker, his face impassive as he asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

Angel Christian seemed almost hesitant in responding – as though a part of him was still hanging on to what he once was, "There's something the Angels are very keen you should know before the end."

"Which is?" The Doctor's voice lowered. All action from the clerics had ceased – the lot of us gathered around to watch in trepidation.

"We died for nothing."

I felt something in me slip as I stood listening – my heart already feeling like lead.

 _No... It couldn't be – what he was saying... That's not how it's supposed to go._

The Doctor looked as confused as I felt as he asked, "I'm sorry?"

"The Angels know about the star. They know she predicts the future. She could've saved us if she just said – but we died alone, in fear. My wife's due next month, sir – we think it's going to be a girl.

I'm not going to be there for her – all because you let us down. You're the man who's meant to save people, and when it mattered, you let us down – both of you."

 _It went silent._

 _Was it really silent or was I imagining that?_

 _No. People were talking – I just couldn't hear._

 _I couldn't hear and there was this bad feeling – surging through me like acid. I knew this feeling._

 _Grief. That's what that was._

 _Feels like emptiness in your heart, a shear of nothingness that somehow takes over and holds your soul and threatens to kill you entirely._

 _I'd felt it before – many, many times before – but never like this._

I reached up to touch my face. Something strange was making it difficult to see well – why were my cheeks wet?

I felt an invisible hand – the ghost of the life I abandoned – grab hold of my heart wretchedly.

 _He had a wife – he's going to have a daughter. A little girl who's never going to meet her Dad._

"What are they doing?"

Amy's voice – a brief lull at the back of my mind – so low I could hardly register it.

"They're trying to make him angry," River, I think, whispered to her, "And going after _her_ – he's bound to get mad."

"I'm sorry, sir. The Angels were very keen for you to know that."

It was like the energy in the room had flipped. I was back in the moment, staring blankly at my feet – but still I felt a kind of static build, growing until I felt the hair on my arms begin to rise.

"Well then, the Angels have made their second mistake because I'm not going to let that pass. I'm sorry you're dead, Christian, but I swear to whatever is left of you, they will be sorrier."

The Doctor's voice, louder than all the other voices, rang out through my mind.

He was _angry_.

It wasn't even anger, but rage. Though his face seemed passive, you could see it in the darkening of his eyes. His rage held all the power of a wildfire – the flames roaring in his eyes, ready to ignite anything that he came in contact with.

 _He had never looked this angry in the show, had he?_

"But you're trapped, sir, and about to die."

"Yeah – I'm trapped. And you know what? Speaking of traps, this trap has got a great big mistake in it. A great big, whopping mistake," The Doctor turned around, his eyes meeting mine.

A thousand different things seemed to flicker in his face as he took me in – scanning the wet streaks I was desperately trying to rub away.

"What mistake, sir?"

The Doctor ignored the blaring voice on the radio, his eyes turning to Amy, "Trust me?"

"Yeah," Amy replied like it was obvious – her eyes gleaming a honey-like hazel.

The Doctor's head then swivelled to River, "Trust me?"

"Always," She returned without a single moment's worth of hesitation.

"You lot, trust me?" He turned towards the clerics. Most men just turned to each other and shrugged.

"We have faith, sir," Octavian responded bluntly for the whole lot of them.

That's when he turned to me – The Doctor – the man made of fire and ice and time. The man who had saved countless lives, but had assured the ends to many more. The oncoming storm and all other fancy titles he had earned along the way.

He was someone to be _feared_.

But when his face turned to meet mine, all I saw was an uncertain tenderness. He cared about me, that was something clear to see – probably for being a friend to him in the time I had yet to live through. But even so, in the moment – he just looked like a boy who was trying to make a girl not feel like utter garbage.

 _How could I fear him?_

"Fiona. Do you trust me?"

I felt all the noise, all the guilt, all the panic – everything – fall flat the second his eyes were on me. Maybe it was my imagination – it was probably, certainly, completely my imagination – but the way he was looking at me, it seemed _different_.

Like there was so much history in the way he was looking at me, in the way he was saying my name.

"But I hardly know you."

My voice sounded foreign to my own ears – my mind too exhausted for barriers, sitting back as it let my mouth betray the truth.

He smirked a boyish smirk, "That's never stopped you before."

A current, like an electric charge that was a little short of busting began to flow through me. _Could he feel that too?_

"Cheat," I grinned at him – he knew full well not to betray what other versions of me did. Placing my smaller hand in his larger one, I felt all urge to fight leave me – going for the only option that'd been playing on my mind, "Okay then."

If he had ever known failure in his life, it didn't show. Everything from the way he held himself, to the way he spoke, to that look of unassailable confidence in his eye said he could do it. What could we do but believe him? Like the others I fell in step behind him, and that was that. He was a natural leader.

"Give me your gun. I'm about to do something incredibly stupid and dangerous. When I do, jump!" He instructed the men, his voice booming as the sounds of the approaching angels became louder and louder.

"Children shouldn't play with guns, Doc," I muttered to him – the picture of the Doctor with a gun seeming too wrong to let slide.

He grinned a Cheshire grin, speaking through half-lidded, sly eyes, "Who said I was playing?"

"Jump where?" Octavian asked, looking at the Doctor like he was mad.

"Just jump, high as you can. Come on, leap of faith, Bishop. On my signal."

River turned to face him, her face worry-stricken, "What signal?"

It was the Doctor's turn to smile cunningly at her, everything about him completely self-assured, "You won't miss it."

"Sorry, can I ask again? You mentioned a mistake we made," Christian's voice came through the speaker – a perfect mockery to what I'm sure his tone would've sounded like if he was still alive.

The Doctor's tweed-clothed arm lifted to the sky – the smooth metal of the gun in his hand pointed at the hull of the Byzantium.

"Oh, big mistake. Huge. Didn't anyone every tell you there's one thing you never put in a trap? If you're smart, if you value your continued existence, if you have any plans about seeing tomorrow, there is one thing you never, ever put in a trap."

His hand coiled and uncoiled at his side – muscles tense. He held the pistol firmly, almost as if it were an extension of himself rather than a tool of death.

"And what would that be, sir?"

The poisonously sweet ghost of a smile that had previously adorned his face began to stretch – stretch until it became something else entirely.

 _A victor's smirk._

"Me."

A single gunshot rang out – and the world turned upside down.

* * *

 **Afterword: Wow, hello to you – whoever made it to the end of this chapter.**

 **I hope some of you liked it since I did try to make it as interesting as possible. I hadn't initially planned on making the OC care too much about the sad parts in these episodes – like people dying – but I think her reacting this intensely the first time adds a little to her humanity and sets her apart – especially since no one really cared about the deaths so strongly this episode.**

 **If you noticed, I have been toying around with some changeable parts in the story – like saving Bob!**

 **I thought little plot twists that change direction of story might work to keep the reader's attention so that nothing is completely expected. I'd like to think it's a refreshing addition so that you don't have to keep reading over plot you already know.**

 **Nevertheless, your opinions really help me figure out what's truly good – since I've mostly just been going on what I think will do. So please do leave a review if you've got any questions or suggestions.**

 **Thank you!**


	8. Chapter 8 - Grumpy Beginnings

**Will We Meet Again?**

 **Chapter 8 -** **Grumpy Beginnings.**

* * *

.

 _ **Entry no. 7**_

 _Monochopsis_

(n.) The subtle but persistent sensation of feeling out of place.

 _Your own mind is a cruel judge. It can play tricks, love._

 _You belong._

 _._

* * *

I saw fireworks.

Not the kind you'd light on New Year's Eve – not the brilliant, soaring fiery blooms of vermilion, gold or acid green that only made the stars seem brighter as they lit up the sky.

The fireworks I saw were the kind you'd get after an intense case of whiplash – the kind you'd get when you got off the scariest ride at the carnival, only to inevitably throw up five minutes after pretending you were fine. It was a static-y weirdness that sat atop my eyes like a film of plastic – the buzzes of colour only serving to give me an acute headache.

That was all I saw before my body collided against the cool metal surface of the Byzantium – my knees doubling over due to the intense pressure.

"Ugh, warn me next time, will ya Doctor?" Amy's voice rolled out in an annoyed Scottish moan.

I groaned, my eyes tightly scrunched as I got over my bout of nausea.

"I knew it was coming, and yet I'm sure it felt just as bad, Amy,"

The Doctor, with not a single hair out of place, had wasted no time getting to his feet while everyone else struggled to get their bearings straight on the artificial surface.

"Up. Look up." He almost hissed, going mostly unnoticed by everyone.

"Are you okay?" River asked Amy with a rush of worry, her eyes roving over her form, searching for any trace of an injury.

"What happened?" Amy frowned, rubbing at her head in confusion.

"We jumped," I muttered, still struggling to get up – except that something was wrong.

There was this strange throbbing ache that'd been growing near my leg, ever since my mind stopped spinning. It was just a pinprick at first – the feeling of small needles jabbing your limbs after you collided against something – but now, it only increased the more I made to move.

 _Either I was a lot more unathletic than I thought, or this was cause for worry._

Amy's voice was just as distraught as my mind had become – her eyes scanning the room, "Jumped where?"

"Up. Up. Look up!" The Doctor insisted, pacing around – his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Amy rolled her eyes, her voice growing frustrated, "Where _are_ we?"

"Exactly where we were," River replied, her eyes flittering towards me. "Starshine – are you alright?"

"I'm good," I shot back.

I was standing up now, but quite awkwardly – trying to balance all my weight on my good leg. I assumed that I had probably hurt it on the way up in some miraculous fashion.

"You definitely said that much too quickly for me to believe you," River exhaled, turning to grab my hand and steady me.

Her hand stilled as it reached for me.

"You're bleeding!"

I followed her eyes down to where she was looking at me with wide-eyed alarm. There was a raw, weeping gash that travelled along my calf, blood running freely in thin scarlet streaks down into the fibres of my now cut jeans, matting them together, before soaking into the dark material of my boots.

"Oh?" I stared down at my leg, "Funny that."

" _Funny that?"_ River looked at me, completely disbelieving. Despite her shock, she had moved to where her arm was wrapped tightly around my shoulders – forcing me to lean most of my body weight onto her.

The cut wasn't _that_ bad, I mused to myself, examining the gash.

I had gotten hurt loads of times as a kid – whether it was by trying to impress my cousins by always taking something extreme a step too far, or by trying to make my stories a reality – always wanting to make magic live in a world where that wasn't a possibility.

Even if the only way I _could_ do that was by convincing myself I had wings buried somewhere under the skin of my back, and that all they needed was some gentle persuasion to make themselves known.

The one time I tried, I ended up on the ground in a puddle of my own tears, having darted off a tree and broken my arm.

"Yeah well _..._ " I trailed, leeching off of River's body warmth as I felt the thrill of jumping start to leave me cold, "I guess I snagged on a rock on the way up."

"Yes, I _truly_ wonder what else it could've been," River remarked wryly, but with an affectionate softness to where harsh lines would've been if she was actually being mean.

I smiled a sickly sweet smile at her, "Oh, Doctor Song, your worry for my well-being is really crushing me right now."

The lack of people paying attention to him must've been what caught the Doctor's attention, because as soon as River started fussing over me, did he turn to us with impatient eyes – only to have his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline – the cut of his face lined with something between worry and concern.

" _You're bleeding."_

I couldn't help but smirk at that. I attempted to muster up my most nonchalant smile, "Thank you, I wasn't aware of the giant gash spewing blood. Whatever would I do without you?"

That earned me a glare – except that it looked a tad too distressed for it to sting.

 _He was most definitely 'Mr. Grumpy' today._

Everything, every action from the moment I met this Doctor, had been so erratic and haphazard that it'd been difficult to pinpoint how it was he felt about me. At times it's felt like his eyes were glued to me and that he didn't want me out of his sight, but other times it was like he didn't want to be anywhere near me – simply ignoring me entirely.

We had talked for a bit on the TARDIS and then for a bit throughout all _this_ , but I still hadn't learnt a single genuine thing from him. Maybe it was that _this_ episode was too fast for him to have a single free moment, but I couldn't shake the thought that _he_ was a meteor that had long buzzed away from me.

A strange sensation, one that I'd been feeling on and off, was telling me that I didn't belong there. That I wasn't meant to catch up.

"Doc," I sighed, my thoughts jumbled from his abrupt show of serious concern, "it's okay, it's not that bad. I'm sure I could walk on it. I finally know what they mean by the 'adrenaline rush' – because honestly, I hardly feel it."

The hard look in his eyes didn't let up – instead he just seemed to go into overdrive, moving quickly to the hatch where I knew we'd escape.

"Move your feet," he practically shooed Amy from standing so close to the hole in the ground, before glancing up at my leg. "We'll need to be fast."

I sighed.

 _Stupid, fast man._

 _Stupid, fast,_ _ **confusing**_ _man._

 _So I was slowly bleeding to death, blah blah, big deal – there'd be a time for that. He needed to focus on the story._

He was never, ever this serious on the show. What had gotten into him?

"Doctor, what am I looking at? Explain," Amy hissed, still in the dark about everything.

"Oh, come on, Amy, think. The ship crashed with the power still on, yeah? So what else is still on?" The Doctor paused as the look on Amy's face told us that she realised we were standing on the hull of the Byzantium _._

 _"_ The artificial gravity. One good jump," The Doctor jumped on the spot before he returned to using his sonic screwdriver on the hatch, "And up we fell. Shot out the grav-globe to give us an updraft, and here we are!"

"Doctor. The statues, they look more like Angels now," Octavian informed him, the torch attached to his rifle pointing up to the ceiling.

I followed the shaky light with my eyes, even though it seemed feint in the massive vastness of the cave. Through the indistinguishable mist that had settled in, I could spot the slowly approaching figures of stone – looking scarily more like the versions I had seen so many times on the telly – _in the safety of my own home._

The comfort of home had become a feeling that was almost hard to remember as I watched the Grecian-like statues – so similar to the ones from days of the renaissance – blink further and closer to where we were out in the open.

I stared wide-eyed at the strange, homicidal creatures – trying to pick up a thing or two from River on how to keep my emotions in check, but not being able to control the trembling of my hands.

"Here we go again."

The Doctor looked just as alarmed as the rest of us, "They're feeding on the radiation from the wreckage, draining all the power from the ship, restoring themselves. Within an hour, they'll be an army!"

The hatch opened up into the ship just as all the lights started to go out – the bulbs shattering with electricity sparking out through the broken fuses.

I looked up sharply, craning my head over Rivers arm to look at the Doctor, "They're taking out the lights."

Octavian's eyes were set in a hard glare as they turned to look at me. A part of him looked scrutinising and calculating – like he was debating on whether to leave me behind or not.

He was almost definitely worried I'd slow them down.

Just as the fear started to rise in the pit of my stomach, Octavian seemed to dismiss whatever the hell it was he was thinking about, because the next second his eyes were back on the angels.

"Right, look at them – _look_ at the Angels," The Doctor stressed, oblivious to my relief as he jumped straight into the hole, "Into the ship, now, quickly all of you!"

"But how?" River frowned, peering into the hole to see the Doctor standing upright, horizontal in perspective to us.

I looked at him in awe, the distorted perspective playing mind games on me, "Oh, that's _wicked_."

 _Screw dank old caves, this was some of the futuristic, sciency stuff I expected to see in the 51_ _st_ _century._

"Doctor!" Amy exclaimed, thinking that he had surely fallen to his doom.

"It's just a corridor. The gravity orientates to the floor," The Doctor almost laughed before he winked at me, "And it most certainly is wicked."

He flipped the sonic up and down in the air – catching it in an attempt to prove that the gravity was indeed stable, "Now, in here, all of you, don't take your eyes off the Angels."

He then pocketed the sonic and opened his hands out wide – like he was preparing to catch me the second River let go, "Down you get, love."

I looked down at him doubtfully. River holding me up was one thing, but him? Didn't he have more important things to do – being the main character and all?

The scary height was beginning to get to me, but to not waste any more time than I probably already had with my unforeseen injury – I just decided to say 'screw it'.

With the small amount of strength I had, I dislodged myself from River – jumping into the hole with nothing but blind faith. Falling through the air with my eyes shut, for a near second I was met with the scary image of crashing into nothingness, with the only thing to catch me being more pain.

But then, with a thud – I collided against something vaguely human.

The Doctor had wrapped a lean arm around my shoulders and pulled close, preventing me from stumbling. Despite the heaviness in my stomach from the toll this all was taking on me, it weirdly fluttered at the feeling of him being so close. I waited for a second so that he'd push me off – my leg making it difficult to take three large steps back. But when he made no move to create some distance, I silently cursed him for his lack of understanding on what personal space was – something that was clear to see on the show.

"There. See, wasn't that easy?" He remarked, his voice ten times as smug as his face.

While he was steadying me, still absurdly close – a part of me wondered, for just a single, silly second – what would've happened if I had sank further into the warmth of his side instead of staying as rigid as glass?

Like I would do when hugs were a more common occurrence in my life.

It wasn't that I was needy or that I was swooning, because 'Of course, he's the handsome, intelligent hero, why wouldn't you be swooning?' – It was just that I was tired and cold and slowly going delirious, and that his touch made the room warmer somehow.

But that was the thing. _That touch wasn't mine._

 _None of these people owed me anything._

And it'd be very selfish of me to just take advantage of something like that – even if I was going slightly hysterical because of the injury.

I pulled away abruptly, hobbling on one leg as to not need his support anymore. I looked into his concerned face – trying to keep everything light as I smiled at him, "Thanks for the catch. Now go get us out of here, spaceboy."

He looked affronted, "Spaceboy? If anything it's 'Space- _man'_."

I raised an eyebrow at him – glad to have gotten rid of the weird air, "Oh? Well, I'll be sure to change it when you don't look like you could pass off as a college student."

Weirdly enough, even though he was grinning away at me, the balling of his fists and the shifting of his eyes told me that he was hesitantly thinking over something. His eyes drifted to where I knew he had to go to work, but it was like he didn't want to leave me on my own.

I couldn't help but frown at that.

The hesitance was something I was starting to see a lot of in this Doctor. Like he was constantly at war with himself. It must be torture, living with a brain like his – after everything I knew he had gone through too. After the Time War, how could he _not_ second guess every decision?

His eyes seemed to have caught notice of the sickly pallor that'd been settling into my skin the longer I kept losing blood – his eyes appeared to keep flickering from my wound to my face.

Maybe that's what persuaded him to go use the sonic screwdriver on a keypad on the wall.

"How's the leg?" he asked a bit apprehensively, toying with the machinery in the wall.

I had to lean my weight on one of the curved corridors, facing the Doctor's opposite. My eyes drifted shut to rest themselves for a bit as I nonchalantly replied, "Oh, it's doing swimmingly."

"I doubt that," His voice drifted back to me, snapping in a condescending manner, "And how d'ya think this is all going so far?"

My thoughts trailed off.

I briefly wondered from which part in the UK that accent of his was meant to be from. I didn't even bother trying to think of the logistics to why the Doctor always chose to be a British man. Of course, it was obvious when this was a television show and all – with the show being centered there – but it was downright confusing to think about now.

 _But wait, hadn't he asked me a question?_

I took a second to concentrate before I came up with a reasonable response.

"This was not going well from the start," I almost laughed as I said the first thing on my mind, opening my eyes to get a better view of him, "The second we walked in, it was like we were the mice in a house jam-packed with a thousand cats."

"Yes, but we can move through the walls," He tapped his nose knowingly, a secret smile playing on his lips. He clapped his heels suddenly, his eyes adopting a child-like glimmer, "And we get the cheese!"

I sighed, nodding to where he should've been paying attention, "Yes, and going back and forth like this isn't getting us anywhere."

He simply ignored me, looking excited before his face immediately soured. He rolled his tongue out like a puppy that had gotten peanut butter stuck in his gums.

"No, that's right, don't like cheese. Not this time round," His face adopted the glum look of a depressed child, only brightening in response to the few giggles I let escape due to his antics.

Sometime during our exchange, I kept watch as Octavian ushered his men inside, practically growling under his breath in annoyance as they came through. The door closed as soon as everyone was inside the _Byzantium_.

The air had completely shifted from the carefree one from when I was talking to the Doctor, becoming one of rushed time and panicked glances.

"The Angels – presumably they can jump up too?"

"They're here. _Now_. In the dark, we're finished. Run!" The Doctor shouted as we all turned to see a large door behind us close, blocking our only escape.

I stared blankly at the shut escape, my voice soft and breathy from the exertion, "Well this is a predicament."

 _From what I knew, there wasn't anything to be concerned about yet – Everything was going as it should be._

I knew I would, a hundred percent, be more likely to be freaked out of my wits at any given time – but even so, my legs _were_ starting to feel more and more like jelly.

"This whole place is a death trap," Octavian surmised, a bit less eloquently that my analogy, his voice aggravated as he spoke.

"No, it's a time bomb. Well, it's a death trap and a time bomb," The Doctor corrected him, "And now it's a dead end. Nobody panic."

I rolled my eyes at him, even though I was finding it surprisingly hard to keep them open, "You really know how to settle a heart, don't you?"

We could all hear the banging that came from outside the door – The sound of claws scraping against metal being enough to make me cringe.

"Oh, just me then? What's through here?" The Doctor asked, pointing his screwdriver at the door that had just closed behind us.

"Secondary flight deck," River answered, not taking her eyes off the door.

"Okay, so we've basically run up the inside of a chimney, yeah?" Amy asked, looking around like a deer in headlights.

River lifted up a hatch on the wall and started to work on bypassing the power, twisting the wires that were in the hatch. She had on a thoughtful look as she turned to the doctor, "What happens if the gravity fails?"

"I've thought about that," The Doctor told her, looking distracted.

"Well?" I raised an eyebrow, prodding him to go on.

" _Well_ , we'll all plunge to our deaths. See, I've thought about it," The Doctor tapped on my temple, staring intently at me.

"The security protocols are still live. There's no way to override them, it's impossible."

"How impossible?" I challenged him, knowing that he always needed a push before proving something as trivial as 'impossibility' wrong.

His face harboured the ghost of a challenge accepted as he faced me with his chin raised, "Two minutes."

The metal hallway suddenly went unusually quiet – the hum of the ships' engines disappearing entirely.

The lights flickered shut, so fast I almost mistook it for blinking. In that time, the impenetrable steel of the hatch busted wide open – affronting us with sight of the cave walls we had just escaped.

"The hull is breached and the power's failing," Octavian said, his voice laced with dread.

The lights slowly dimmed – going out entirely to reveal an Angel.

The bastard was slyly inching its head against the edges of the door which had just opened, like it was mocking us.

"Sir! Incoming!" a cleric warned.

I watched them without turning my head, my heart hammering in my chest as I floundered for something, "D-doctor, help River with the lights!"

Without a trace of hesitation or delay, the Doctor started to use the sonic screwdriver to help River – the green light from his particular device giving an eerie 'Harry Potter-esque' glow to the dark corridor.

The lights started to flicker back to life, allowing us to see the Angels trying to make their way inside the Byzantium. The lights went out again and came on brighter than before, revealing four Angels inside the corridor with us.

"Clerics, keep watching them," Octavian ordered his men.

"And not the eyes," I warned, my voice breathy. It was quite the creepy image, just seeing the angel as still as any regular old statue. I was getting some crazy gargoyle vibes from them, just picturing how terrifying it'd look to actually see them moving and in action.

I almost tripped, trying to hobble closer to where I knew we were going to make it out, when a hand enclosed itself around my shoulder.

It was Amy who had suddenly grabbed hold of my shoulder, her eyes unyielding as she steadied me, "Lean on me."

I was about to speak when she shot out, eyes like liquid gold, "And no, you can't say no."

I stared at her disbelievingly, before I took a second to analyse her. Even though she looked begrudging, like she was going against her nature to help me, the fact that she was actually trying to help me – it baffled me.

Wasn't Amelia Pond the kind of girl who gave zero shits about anyone other than herself – at least at the start?

I'd always thought her to be the snarky sort, whose uncaring-ness made her a perfect fit for _this_ Doctor. It was why she needed Rory, after all – he balanced her out.

 _So my question was – what had_ _ **I**_ _done to make her act the way she was now?_

"Well, when you put it like that..." I tried my best to smile at her, before any attempt at a joke fell through and I realised that I was actually genuinely grateful, "Thanks, Pond."

 _I suppose Amelia Pond was going to be someone I could count on for however long I was going to be here._

"I've isolated the lighting grid. They can't drain the power now," The Doctor almost whooped, turning to keep a strict eye on the angels.

"Good work, Doctor," Octavian said.

"Yes, good. Good in many ways, good you like it so far..." The Doctor trailed off, his eyes dancing back and forth sheepishly.

Amy narrowed her eyes at him, "So far?"

" _Well_ ," The Doctor drawled the word, much like Ten would do. "There's only one way to open this door. I guess I'll need to route all the power in this section through the door control."

"Good, fine, do it," Octavian seemed to be getting increasingly annoyed.

"Including the lights. All of them. _I'll need to turn out the lights,"_ The Doctor emphasised his words, his face grave.

"How long for?" Octavian asked, dreading the answer.

"Fraction of a second," The Doctor grimaced, "Maybe longer. Maybe quite a bit longer."

"Maybe?"

"I'm guessing. We're being attacked by statues in a crashed ship, there isn't a manual for this!" The Doctor shot back defensively.

"No torches," I reminded him slowly, "We'll be in total darkness."

"No other way," The Doctor looked at me earnestly, clearly worried about how close we could come to dying. A part of me was so tempted to just wipe the worry off his face by telling him we'd make it out alright, but I guess not even I could be too sure.

"Bishop?" The Doctor turned to the man in question.

Octavian pursed his lips, looking at the Doctor with heavy eyes before turning away to face River.

"Dr Song, I've lost good Clerics today," He spoke darkly, his eyes straying to Bob who was lined up with the rest of the men, "You trust these people?"

"I absolutely trust them," River's voice did not waver once.

 _Trust._

She absolutely trusted us.

The Doctor, okay sure – obviously she'd trust him, she loved him after all.

But me? Why on earth would she?

I always thought that trust came with some speck of love or caring – to give in to someone was the moment you started trusting someone. It was the moment that could make you weak – _vulnerable_.

I had learned long ago that 'trust' was a bad call – a stupid call – on all turfs, when it came to survival. Even so, I'd never condemn someone else for being so free with their feelings.

But I didn't deserve that. I had done absolutely nothing to deserve something like that.

I squirmed in silence as Octavian looked at River suspiciously, "They're not mad then?"

River blinked, her eyes rapidly flitting back between me and the Doctor.

"I absolutely trust them," She deadpanned. She slowly turned to me, her eyes widening and her head nodding for me to help her out. My eyes went as wide as saucers – shrugging and scrunching up my face confusedly.

Octavian turned to look at me with a raised eyebrow, just as River and I were engaged in an ardent match of silently throwing words and gestures back and forth. I immediately halted under his obviously peeved gaze.

"Oh, um," I floundered, my eyes drifting awkwardly around the room, "On whatever honour I have in this world, I assure you I'm the farthest you can get from 'mad'."

I held my fingers up in the universally known – at least I hoped – three-fingered Boy Scout salute. My eyes moved to the Doctor, "Him on the other hand..."

I had trailed off, earning me a 'meh' from the Doctor that just seemed accepting. I almost snorted and left it at that, but I knew Octavian needed some sort of convincing.

"Well, I'm sure you've heard about what he can do. He makes unnecessary speeches, always has a lame catchphrase, and always looks completely unequipped for the job," I started dryly, not letting the beyond offended look on the Doctor's face deter me, "But he always ends up winning – and that's why he's your best shot."

" _I don't look_ _unequipped_ ," The Doctor huffed, tugging at the sides of his bow-tie, "If anything, I look entirely capable and cool."

"Yes, the bow-tie really does it," I smiled a bit fondly at him. Real or not, he was still a favourite of mine.

I was about to go on when Octavian leaned in close to me, almost trapping me against the wall as he whispered under his breath, "I'm taking your word, because I know about your supposed 'powers'. You know how this is going to end. You cost me any more men, and I might just tell your precious Doctor everything there is to know about River Song – and you wouldn't appreciate that would you?"

I blanched, going paler than I already was. He was actually threatening _me_ now?

That wasn't right – he was supposed to despise River alone, but now it seemed like he was a great dog, lumping together and bullying anything weaker than him. I looked back at Octavian helplessly, knowing that being the centre of his attention was a very bad place to be right now.

"Excuse me," The Doctor interjected, his voice oddly pointed. He stuck a hand in between the two of us, moving to work on the machinery by my side – involuntarily pushing Octavian away. I don't think he had heard what Octavian had said in his hushed voice, but the discomfort must've shown on my face.

Octavian moved back, returning to his clerics. I felt my shoulders sag – releasing a sigh I didn't know I was holding.

 _What an assclown._

Clearly bristled, I turned to look at the Doctor, muttering so only he could hear, "He's the opposite of friendly. He's unfriendly."

"I gathered," The Doctor exhaled with a soft smile, his voice low to match mine while he still kept watch of Octavian out the corner of his eye, "What did he say to you?"

"Something that made this a lot more complicated than it needed to be," I sighed.  
Noticing the Doctor's inquisitive look, I just shrugged, "Spoilers. God, I'm going to hate that word."

This was all threatening to catch up with me. The growing pain in my leg and the elevating distress in my head – I knew it would all become a little too much to handle sooner or later.

This was all just happening so fast. This world was so fast – too fast – from anything I was ever used to.

And the worst part was that I couldn't tell anyone about it. It was solely up to me to handle knowing about who would live and who would die.

Octavian huffed loudly, capturing everyone's attentions. He had returned to his stance in front of all of us and yet behind the other clerics. I caught sight of Bob, stood at almost the same level as Octavian, his legs trembling ever so slightly as his knuckles went stark white around his rifle.

I really hoped all the clerics that were still standing could make it out of here in one piece.

"Okay," Octavian sighed. "Doctor, we've got your back."

I returned to Amy, having hobbled away when Octavian confronted me, clutching a little tighter to her now, "Well, here goes nothing."

"Bless you, Bishop," The Doctor thanked Octavian in that very subtle passive-aggressive way he did when he didn't much care for someone.

Looking over his shoulder, he checked on us with worried eyes, his gaze snagging at my wound that seemed to have stopped bleeding as much as it had been. His voice was ominous as his eyes caught mine, "Watch yourselves. When that hatch opens, I want you to be the first ones in."

I narrowed my eyes at him. That also wasn't in the original either, from what I could recall. I didn't have time to make a remark because the very next second, Octavian was already barking orders.

"Combat distance, ten feet. As soon as the lights go down, continuous fire. Full spread over the hostiles. Do not stop firing while the lights are out. Shot gun protocol, you don't have bullets to waste," He called out in proper military fashion.

The Doctor turned again, "Amy, when the lights go down, the wheel should release. Spin it clockwise, four turns."

Amy nodded blankly, "Ten."

He frowned, "No, four," He corrected. "Four turns."

Amy raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, four, I heard you." She said, letting go of me to take position by the door. I moved to stand on the opposite of her position, planning on assisting her with the wheel – even though I didn't have all my strength at the moment, she needed all the help she could get.

"Ready!" The Doctor placed the sonic into the circuit.

Octavian inhaled deeply.

"On my count then. God be with us all. Three _..._ two _..._ _one_."

The lights went out.

"Fire!" Octavian shouted.

The acrid smell of gunpowder enveloped my nasal cavity. The gunshots cracked into the air as loud as thunder but without the raw power of a storm – the abrupt loudness almost making me go deaf in the ears.

Gunshots in movies and video games were two-a-penny, each one only marginally increasing the viewer's adrenaline. But when it was real – when it was _real_ , they were as good as a hypodermic to the heart. Each one isn't simply loud, it cracks the air, disorientating all your senses to a point where you couldn't register anything _but_ the noise.

The clerics opened fire on the Angels as they stormed the corridor, while the four of us tried to get the door open.

 _"Turn!"_

The Doctor began shouting, breaking me out of my shock.

"It's opening, it's working!" Amy cried out.

Everything that happened next was as good as a blur. I briefly registered Amy tugging me along, with River close on our tails. She moved to lead, her blaster gripped tightly in her hand – cocked and ready for any baddies waiting for us on the other side.

"Fall back!" Octavian shouted.

The clerics moved through the doorway in close formation, followed by Octavian and lastly the Doctor. We moved down another similar corridor to another door. The Doctor held the door open with the sonic screwdriver as the other went through.

Damn it, this was when the Doctor was going to play the hero and wait for everyone else to go before him.

I moved faster than I knew was good for me, only wanting to speed it up so he wouldn't be trapped on the other side.  
Who knew if the addition of two extra bodies who weren't supposed to be there would have an effect on anything that happened?

I cursed silently, waiting with bated breath as I watched clerics file into the room – hating that the Doctor hadn't entered the second corridor yet.

Just the picture of him lying on the ground dead, with a twisted neck, just like Angelo and Christian, was enough to make my breath hitch and my heart start to race.

I hadn't even known him a full day, and yet something just felt so wrong with the idea of him dying.

"Doctor, hurry!" I called into the rapidly closing doorway.

Amy was quick to follow, "Doctor!"

It was then that the bow-tie cladded man decided to join us, a literal hair-breadth away from being trapped in a room full of weeping angels.

He looked at my distressed face with mock surprise and a half-grin.

"What? Did you miss me?"

* * *

"So I'm basically dying, right?"

My breath caught in my throat and morphed into a pained groan when River dabbed the antiseptic on the rough of the wound. We had made our way into the flight deck – the room with comfy chairs and locked doors on all sides – doors that the angels were slowly trying to break into.

"I think you'll live." River padded down the cotton bandage over and around my leg, having cut off the lower half of denim on my jeans. I was sat on the spinny white chair while River worked on patching my leg up.

The wound wasn't as deep as I thought it was, but it went far enough to constitute for the pain I felt.

"Ouch, that's gonna leave a mark, isn't it?" I grimaced, looking down at the poofy blonde curls spilling out of Rivers bun. All she graced me with was a small, coy smile – making the answer clear enough.

I sighed, my voice wry when I answered, "Wow, my first day and I've already got a cool scar."

This was more exhausting than the characters on screen ever made it look. Hell, I don't remember a single day back at the shop when, after carrying tons and tons of heavy books for hours on end, did I ever feel as tired as I did now.

I turned to watch what was happening behind me, already mourning over the brief moment of peace that had gone. The flight deck here had nothing on the USS Enterprise's deck – the fact that it was a mess of debris and broken ship parts, probably having something to do with that.

Everything in the room was completely broken down, with sparks spewing out of the exposed wires that were breaking out of the walls. The console that the Doctor and Amy were standing at had its panels ripped off the controls – rendering it completely useless.

Octavian, having recovered from the gunfire-ridden battle with not a single life lost, moving to stand by the door we had just come through. He placed a small, round device above the wheel on the door.

Amy's head turned to face him. With a curious gaze she asked him, "What are you doing?"

"Magnetized the door. Nothing could turn that wheel now."

"Yeah?" The Doctor derided slyly. His eyes fell into a look that said 'see?' as the wheel began to turn behind them.

Octavian's eyes widened. "Dear god!"

"Ah, now you're getting it! You've bought us time though, that's good. I am good with time," The Doctor deliberated with himself.

I snorted, chewing on the protein Bar River had handed me to reclaim some semblance of strength. I looked up at the Doctor with admonishing humour, "Yeah, except for about five minutes ago when that door almost flattened you."

"I still made it," He looked at me smugly, like that was all that counted. His eyes then turned a shade softer, still keeping up his smug facade, "Though, it would be a shame if I died and left you all to fend for yourselves."

I stared at him with total contempt.

"A real tragedy," I remarked dryly.

"Doctor!"

Amy's panicked voice rang out as another doors wheel started to spin.

"Seal that door. Seal it now!" Octavian ordered a cleric, who placed a magnetic device on the second door. He turned to the Doctor. "Doctor, how long have we got?"

The Doctor shrugged, his eyes intent on the console in the flight deck. "Five minutes, max."

"Nine," Amy nodded.

"Five," The Doctor corrected her, his eyes snapping to look at her warily. It looked like he was beginning to catch onto the fact that something was very wrong with Amelia Pond.

"Five, right, yeah." Amy nodded.

"Why'd you say nine?" He asked, carefully, stepping closer to Amy.

"I didn't," Amy replied slowly, watching him as though he was insane.

"We need another way out of here," River broke out ominously, looking around.

"There isn't one," Octavian said.

"Yeah, there is, course there is. This is a galaxy class ship, goes for years between planet-falls. So," The Doctor snapped his fingers, his tone parodying that of a game-show host as he spoke, "What do they need?"

It took her a second, but River's eyes widened all the same.

"Of course," She breathed in realisation.

I smiled, just as the Doctor snapped his fingers, congratulating her in his own way. My voice was muffled over the chewing as I mumbled, "Whoomp, there it is."

"Of course, what?" Amy asked, looking between us like she was way out of her depth, "What do they need?"

I felt really bad for the redhead – I knew I'd be just as lost as her if I didn't already know what the Doctor and River were squawking about.

"Can we get in there?" Octavian asked, as he realised shortly after River did.

"Well," The Doctor started, "It's a sealed unit, but they must have installed it somehow. This whole wall should slide up."

He pressed himself against the large, shuttered door – his ears making for any signs of noise on the other side, "There's clamps. Release the clamps!"

Just as Octavian's men began moving away debris and large carts, the Doctor knelt down beside the edges of the door, using the sonic on the clamps.

"What's through there? What do they need?" Amy prodded with an annoyed tone to her voice.

"They need to breathe," River looked to Amy with large eyes.

 _So much for the pronoun game,_ I mused.

Our attentions were stolen when the door started to slowly rise – with the Doctor smiling a batty smile and the rest of us watching in pure awe.

"But that's... That's a..."

Amy's voice was nothing more than a faint hum of confusion as I breathed in the fresh air that came spiralling through the door.

The barrier lifted all the way to reveal an ancient-looking forest, trees thick-rooted and tightly-knit – each one just a strand in a massive web of green. The air was rich with the fragrance of leaves and loam – damp too. Almost like it was in a state of hours past after a rainstorm – the soil looked wet, expelling the heady scent of wet dirt.

It gave off such an alarmingly realistic look of authenticity, that I was almost completely convinced.

River was the first to explain, "It's an oxygen factory."

"It's a forest," Amy gasped.

I rolled my eyes, "Tomato, _tomahto_."

"Yeah, and if we're lucky, an escape route," The Doctor finished.

"Eight."

River frowned and took a step forward towards Amy, "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Amy looked back at her, confused.

"Is there another exit? Scan the architecture, we don't have time to get lost in there," The Doctor ordered Octavian.

"On it!" Octavian moved into the forest. "Stay where you are until I've checked the Rad levels."

" _Rad levels?"_ I whispered to River, my eyes glinting with the trace of a stupid joke. She just shook her head at me, her face lighter as some of the obvious worry melted off.

"But trees! On a space ship?" Amy shook her head, like it was the most unbelievable thing of the century.

"Oh, more than trees, way better than trees. You're going to love this," The Doctor crowed as he swaggered closer into the forest – going completely against what Octavian had just said. "Treeborgs…"

He pried away a hunk of tree bark to reveal circuits and wires glowing from underneath.

"Trees plus technology. Branches become cables, become sensors on the hull. A forest sucking in starlight, breathing out air. It even rains. There's a whole mini-climate. It is an eco-pod running through the heart of the ship. A forest in a bottle, on a space ship, in a maze. Have I impressed you yet?"

He turned to look at us, only to find that I was listening in rapt attention. I'm sure he expected some kind of awed compliment – judging by the haughty, self-important, 'I'm so impressive' look on his face.

But I wanted to be honest to my thoughts.

"So are you saying that if, one day, under the hypothetical that technology becomes sentient – we could have living, terminator trees?"

I looked at him quizzically, completely serious, "Like a cyborg Tree-beard?"

He regarded me incredulously, lips falling ajar in apparent disbelief as I spoke.

"I cannot _believe_ ," He almost groaned. "No, I can because I've known you so long."

"Hey!" I chewed him out, "All of this sounds far-fetched as is. My theory doesn't sound too far off from something you'd actually see on one of your kooky expeditions."

"Yes, but _robot trees?_ " He spoke like it was the most unbelievable thing in the world, his eyes shut in pain.

"I'll have you remember that you've met with an actual living tree-person before," I raised a challenging eyebrow, my mind drifting to Nine and his adventures on Platform One. "So what was your point again?"

"Enough," River sighed, "I swear, half the time, all of what you two argue about is pointless babble."

I scrunched my face up – _surely this wasn't a habit for me._

Goofing off, even if it was just for a moment, seemed to drastically be taking the edge off of all the scary shit happening around us. I knew a part of it didn't sit well with me because of the people we had lost so far, but I already promised myself I wouldn't lose it until later.

I lost some of the merriment, but still I had it in me to half-heartedly make a face at her, "Sourpuss. Where's your sense of imagination?"

Amy chuckled from behind the large opening, still in the control deck, contentedly watching us as though she was watching her favourite characters play out a scene.

"Seven."

"Seven?" The Doctor frowned at Amy's words, quick as a whip as he jumped back to join her side.

"Sorry, what?" Amy asked, not having a clue of what was going on.

"You said seven," The Doctor told her carefully, studying her face intently.

"No. I didn't," Amy spoke slowly to him.

"Yes, you did," River said, defending the Doctor.

"Doctor!" Octavian called out from further in the forest "There's an exit, far end of the ship, into the Primary Flight Deck."

"Good," The Doctor confirmed cordially. "That's where we need to go."

Octavian nodded his head, "Plotting a safe path now."

Octavian was forgotten as the Doctor still kept a keen eye on Amy, his face calculating, "Quick as you like!"

And then, like a careful spider creeping down my spine and leaving a trail of silk – my dread grew, once again, at the sound of static.

A noise I was sure to hear echoing through my nightmares the next time I fell asleep.

"Doctor? Excuse me. Hello, Doctor? Angel Christian here, sir."

The Doctor quickly turned to slip into the command chair that River had been patching me up on. Raising the communicator to his face, his eyes glazed over - like he was imagining himself speaking directly into the Angels face.

"Ah. There you are, Angel Christian. How's life?" The Doctor stopped. It wasn't like on the show where you thought he had slipped up. This was like he was mocking the Angel. It was perturbing to watch and to hear – his icily sly tone, feign-fully light and blasé, addressing the thing that had stolen Christian's voice.

"Sorry, _bad subject."_

"The Angels are wondering what you hope to achieve," the voice spoke back, as monotonous as ever.

The Doctor twirled around in his chair, his legs swinging, "Achieve? We're not achieving anything. We're just hanging. It's nice in here, consoles, comfy chairs, a forest. How's things with you?"

"The Angels are feasting, sir. Soon we will be able to absorb enough power to consume this vessel, this world, and all the stars and worlds beyond."

"Well, we've got comfy chairs, did I mention?" The Doctor ignored the angel's veiled taunts.

"We have no need of comfy chairs."

The Doctor barked a laugh and looked at the rest of us, a proud smile gracing his features, "I made him say comfy chairs!"

I resisted the urge to pat his head, as Amy laughed at him, nodding her head as she seemed about to say something.

"Six."

The Doctor bolted upright, the amusement fizzling out of the air, "Okay, well, enough chat. Here's what I want to know – _what have you done to Amy?"_

"There is something in her eye," Christian's voice almost seemed to change tone, imitating the contemptuous tone the Doctor had on previously.

The Doctor's face took on a dangerous look, "What's in her eye?"

 _"We are."_

"What's he talking about? Doctor, I'm five."

The room fell silent, everyone turning to Amy with unbelieving faces. I stood behind River with my arms crossed behind my back. My nails dug into the palms of my hand as I felt the tension in the room elevate. Somehow, I felt so much older than I actually was in that moment – looking at the situation like I was the curator to some game of chess where I decided what was going to happen.

I could just tell the Doctor what was wrong and have him change it – have him save her so that she wouldn't have to trek through the forest alone, while everyone left her behind.

I drew a slow breath.

No I couldn't, because that was when the Doctor – the Doctor from the future – had to have a word with her. I couldn't change that. It'd be cruel to take that moment away from him.

 _I'd just have to think of something else._

Amy seemed to have caught onto her mistake because she quickly tried to correct it, "Five. Fine! I'm fine."

"You're counting." River murmured.

"Counting?" Amy narrowed her eyes.

"You're counting down," The Doctor explained, "From ten. You started back in the first corridor of the _Byzantium_. You've been doing it for a few minutes at the most."

"Why?" Amy asked, her tone going up ten octaves due to her apparent fear.

"I don't know," The Doctor violently shook his head. My heart faltered when he stopped, an idea seemingly overcoming him as his eyes sought me out from behind River.

His face was passive but it held an unasked question.

I don't know why I kept getting so alarmed when he did that. It was just that there was that trickle of a persistent thought that kept saying he'd get angry if I didn't give him the answers he wanted. I had plenty of experience when it came to dealing with adults like that, but still – he hadn't shown the slightest ounce of reason for me to be so wary.

"Counting down to what?" Amy asked, worriedly.

During her fit of worry, I moved over to the Doctor to look at him fully, doing my best to give an answer that was worthy of Amelia's life, without giving anything away that would change possible choices he made in the future. No pressure, really.

 _"She'll be fine,"_ I looked to the Doctor with as much conviction as I could muster, whispering the words to not set Amy further off into a panic.

Now, It wasn't like I went gallivanting around, convincingly persuading spies, great con-men, or the leaders of armies into taking my word as the truth – especially if, like now, I was shaky on whether that truth was a hundred percent accurate or not. Hell, I couldn't even convince my Mom into letting me stay out past eleven.

But something in the way I said what I had seemed to wipe the suspicion off the Doctor's face.

"We shall take her. We shall take all of you. We shall have dominion over all time and space."

Somehow content that he had the upper hand, the Doctor leaned back in the large chair, "Get a life, Christian." His face was smug as he faked a grimace, "Oops, sorry again. There's power on this ship, but nowhere near that much."

"With respect, sir, there is more power on this ship than you yet understand."

And then, with an abruptness unparalleled to anything I had heard, there was this blood-curdling scratchy scream that came from right over our heads. The scratching from the angels at the door had just intensified tenfold as the rest of us were paying attention to other matters.

"Oh, that's very not good," I breathed.

The Doctor seemed to share my thoughts, his head nodding ever so slightly as he kept his gaze focused on the ceiling.

"I'd have to agree," he gulped.

"They're back."

Octavian and his men had returned – their postures tense and ready for battle.

"The Angels are laughing, sir," Angel Christian explained over the radio.

"Laughing?" The Doctor furrowed his eyebrows.

"Because you haven't noticed yet. The Doctor in his TARDIS hasn't noticed. Maybe you should ask the Star," The angel jeered.

I felt a cauldron of confusion ignite and start to bubble in my head.

 _Star?_

That was a word I had heard before – the same word the angel had used, back when I was riddled beside myself with regret over what had happened. But what could it mean?

"Doctor!" Octavian shouted, reclaiming my attention.

I turned over to where his eyes were wide and focused, my own face dropping as I caught sight of something that was equal times as terrifying as it was breathtaking. The crack in the wall that followed Eleven around to any and every place he went – the awe-inspiring, _bright_ light that was caused by the TARDIS exploding in the near future.

 _The light that seemed to resemble the one that brought me here in the first place._

"Oh lovely," I murmured dryly, subconsciously adding the previous thought to the long list of pending questions I needed a second to think about. I breathed in sharply before I tugged at the back of the Doctor's collar, my fingers brushing against his skin and wispy ends of hair in my haste.

It might've been my imagination, but I could swear he almost _shuddered_ as I pulled at him. Quickly, with alert eyes focused entirely on me, he spun around awkwardly in his seat. With my eyebrows screwing up in confusion at his antics, I flicked my eyes to where I wanted him to look.

"Missed something."

The Doctor stood up abruptly, all his attention stolen. His face went slack, honey-green eyes almost beaming as they reflected the light emanating from the wall. His voice was dazed as he hummed, "Oh."

Without a seconds warning, the Doctor raced up to the wall with the crack, making me jump in apprehension. Knowing him and his luck, I'd be grateful if he kept a five-foot distance from that thing at all times.

A flash of bright red hair crept up behind me as I registered the feel of a trembling hand against my jacketed arm. Amy's voice was small as she whispered, "That–That's like the crack from my bedroom wall from when I was a little girl."

I hesitantly wrapped a hand around her shaky one, thinking that she looked so much younger in that moment. Poor girl was probably traumatised from her memories of it. I confirmed her suspicions by an answering a simple "Yeah."

" _Two parts of space and time that should never have touched,"_ The Doctor repeated, just as he had when he had first seen the ominous enigma in the wall – all the way back when Amy was still a little girl.

"OK, enough, we're moving out!" Octavian growled, annoyed and ignorant to the importance of the crack. Somehow, his impatience was a welcome distraction as I began seeing the need to move out.

"Agreed. Doctor? Fiona?" River stepped back, dragging Amy along with her.

"Right with you," The Doctor waved her off, his attention focused solely on his screwdriver and whatever data he was seemingly getting from his experiments on the crack. He was making it obviously clear that he'd be taking his sweet time before he intended to catch up with us.

"Yeah right," I rolled my eyes, "Fat chance we're leaving without you."

"Oh but you are. Bishop?" The Doctor called to Octavian, his gaze never straying from his work. I felt a twinge of hurt at how easily he was sending us off –handing us over to Octavian like we were helpless toddlers that needed an escort.

 _Plus,_ c _ouldn't the moron see that I didn't want him getting hurt?_

"Miss Pond, Dr. Song, Miss Moore – _now!_ " Octavian shot River and I a threatening glare, his eyes holding the unspoken promise of a threat.

"Dude, we are literally about to be murdered by scary aliens, could you maybe tone it down a bit?" I whisper yelled to Octavian, the stress setting off my anger towards the man.

Octavian's eyebrow twitched in annoyance, but he seemed stumped on coming up with a witty retort. He was mostly forgotten as River stepped ahead a placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Get him out of here, please. Universe knows you're the only one who'll get him to listen," River sounded exasperated as she turned head to leave with a fidgety Amy at her side. I was about to grab onto her and demand she get her husband in check, but noticing how restless Amy was getting, I realised how River's first priority was always going to be her mum.

Casting off her odd words, I gave her a relenting nod – almost as if I actually knew what the heck I was gonna do.

"Doctor, Fiona, come on!" Amy shouted after us, her attempts pointless as the Doctor had long since stopped paying attention to the noise behind him, and me since there was no ruddy way I was letting the bastard get within an inch of his life.

That expression seemed quite literal now as I remembered how the angels were going to end up snagging his jacket clean off.

Eventually, Amy, River and Octavian had all left, leaving me to try and convince the mad alien before me into leaving too.

Without turning the slightest bit from the wall or faltering for a second in his calculations, the Doctor pulled a pained face as I drew near – slotting my arms crossed as I stared him down.

" _Why do you always do this?"_ He asked in what I could only assume was a rhetorical fashion, freaking me out since 'no, I never had done anything so reckless against my own needs of self-preservation for the sake of another person.' His voice was pressed as he nearly scowled at the sonic, "Stubborn girl."

"Pray tell, what exactly do you find so unreasonable about me not wanting to leave you to die?" I narrowed my eyes at his back. I knew I had a nasty habit of putting my needs above the needs of others – but doing so in a way where I had already planned ahead so that the other person never even knew I'd be leaving them in the dust – avoiding the situation altogether.

But there were certain moments and certain people. Things I'd risk it all for.

My comfort and shot at living a normal, teen life – those went to Jackson when I'd go into work every morning. Someone had to pay the bills. My patience and the faith I had in people – to my mom whenever I found her in an inebriated stupor at the end of most nights.

So it was why I wondered – was the Doctor a _moment_ or a _person_? Was I foolishly sticking around in a place where my life was at risk, because he was my favourite character or because he was who he was? Just some guy I barely knew.

Regardless of that trail of thought, the Doctor didn't seem to be sharing my introspective musings – his face sour and agitated where mine was curious.

"Don't you see?" He raised his voice a shade higher, an icy scoff interlaying the words, "Everything here will progress as it should. If I really was going to die, there's no way you'd just be standing there instead of tugging me along – so basically, I'm fit as a fiddle, right? But you?"

The Doctor shook his head disdainfully, jumping down from his spot and sauntering towards me carefully. His walk was slow and deliberate – his normally clumsily flippant way of treading gone completely. The second his eyes hit me, I was put under the weight of the tremendous gravity he seemed to possess for these thoughts.

A cold smile had worked its way onto his face, and I was struck by how suddenly he looked like such a stranger to me. He stopped when he was just a hair breadth's way in front of me – too close for comfort.

The corners of his face were pulled up into an uncharacteristic sneer, his eyes glazed over in abhorrence _–_ and yet, even though he was looking at me, I couldn't tell if he was actually _looking_ at me.

" _You_ are an uncertain thing in a world of mostly fixed things, my dear," His voice was a quite rumble, "And I'm not having you this close to danger when you could be somewhere safer."

I felt like I couldn't breathe. His presence was too suffocating, blocking all facets of my vision. All I could see was him and his face marred in that expression I had never seen before.

I knew anyone would and _should_ have been afraid, seeing this man – this _saga_ of a man – with a look on his face that could melt through a row of icecaps.

But in that moment, I felt quite like a child standing in front of a God.

As foolish as that sounded to my own ears, I pressed forward with coltish legs. With innocent curiosity, I looked up into his face with any and all pretences gone – giving in to the voice in my head that told me to wander closer.

To trudge deeper into those waters.

"Why do you care so much?" my voice was surprisingly plain as I asked what had been plaguing my mind since I had met him.

Almost as if that sentence had drawn him out of a restless slumber, I watched as his eyes refocused, returning to their usual vivid green-ness. He paused, just watching me as if he was unconcerned with giving me an answer. Eventually he succumbed, and with a huff he turned to step back into what he was doing, "I care. It's part of the job when you're me. Otherwise you'd never get on to saving people."

With a twinge of annoyance, I halted him by wrapping my hand around his.

 _Huh, so much for keeping my distance,_ I thought bitterly.

"Yeah, and guess what? Danger comes with the package too. So if you really want me out of it, let's catch up to the others!" I tried to coerce him, my voice betraying my worry. Seeing the hesitation make a reappearance on his face, I decided to switch tactics, "look, if we leave now, how about I just tell you what you're bound to find if we dangerously stick around?"

He looked suspicious for a flashing second, like he knew he shouldn't. However, he seemed to have given in, because the next second he was asking me, "What is it?"

"It's the end of the universe," I told him coolly, watching as a spark ignited behind his eyes, "A crack in space and time that leads to the _end_ of time."

Like a man possessed, he seemed to flare with life – the information like an addictive drug as he pressed on, "So it must be soon then, why else would it show up now?"

All the while the Doctor had been ranting; I had slowly been trying to edge him away from the crack in the wall and away from the menacing entrances. It just made it all the more easy when the angels actually came.

In a spur where the lights flickered like they were being controlled by some unseen force, there were angels surrounding us. I had managed to get the Doctor far enough so that we were a good enough distance from them, him with his back to them and me with my back to the forest.

"Do not blink!" The Doctor ordered me, springing into life. He looked like he was going to turn, even though I tried tugging his sleeve closer into the forest – all of it ended up being for naught however, as one of the angels grabbed him by the collar of his tweed jacket.

I cried in alarm, instinctively wanting to bat their hands away from him. When I decided that that would indeed be a very stupid plan, I hesitantly let go of the Doctor's arm – knowing that he'd be fine. I kept a strict eye on the other two angels instead, slowly moving further into the forest to where I knew I could make a break for it.

"Why are we not dead?" The Doctor addressed the angels at lightning speed, desperate to not get our necks snapped. He turned to see that the Angels had their hands reached up towards the crack, almost like they were praying to it like some sort of sacred idol, with just the one angel focused on him.

"Good, and not so good. Oh, this isn't even a little bit good," The Doctor mumbled, "I mean, is that it? Is that the power that brought you here? That's pure time energy, you can't feed on that. That's the power, that's the fire at the end of the universe. I'll tell you something else..."

There was a loud rumbling. A momentary lapse where the Doctor became free from the confines of his doomed jacket.

"Never let me talk," He gloated quickly, bounding over to me like a race horse. He wasted no time in grabbing my hand to pull me along.

"I'll take that into mind for later," I almost choked on a breath to look at him wryly. An action I thought to be very well worth it.

I felt the muscles in my back creak as I tried to keep up with him – my injured leg burning as I had to put excessive force on it. I ignored the pain, instead looking at the Doctor and focusing on keeping my breaths even – the voice in my head yelling at me the way they'd yell at expecting mothers during childbirth.

 _In and out. Breathe goddamn it!_

Like that, we ran until the soles of our feet were on fire – leaving the Doctor's jacket in the hands of the petrified Angels.

* * *

 **Afterword: What? An update within the span of a month? It's a Christmas miracle!**

 **Okay fine, it's a little over a month. That and that it's nowhere near Christmas.**

 **No, but really, I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far. I know there wasn't a lot of change in terms of original story progression (compared to the last chapter), but I really hope you enjoy how intermingled I'm trying to get the OC into the story. One of the perks of writing first person is that the character will have an input on most things, making something like this – a story you already know – hopefully more intricate or by putting a fresh spin on it.**

 **As always, I blush like a schoolgirl whenever I read any of you guys's lovely, lovely comments. Thanks a ton to all the positive feedback, like 'pmoon1995' and 'bored411' who enjoyed the changes to the original story – I really enjoy that you can relate to the character over the emotional bits rather than think her annoying, so thank you for the feedback!**

 **Thanks to 'Sam' because hell yeah! I'm really enjoying making the character Pakistani – especially since I lived there for a great deal of my life. I'd love to include more of the culture into the story because I think that sense of belonging can make a character feel much more grounded and genuine, so look forward to that!**

 **Also, thanks to 'EiraFae' – your comment was so sweet; it made me smile like a lunatic reading it in class! I'm so glad that you're as invested as you say, and it's truly an honour that you say it's one of your best reads.**

 **Thanks to everyone else who commented too, it really sets up my motivation – making me want to write more than I would have if you hadn't reviewed.**

 **Please, don't be shy to review – I'd love, love, love to address questions about the story or even just know things people enjoy about these kinds of stories in general.**

 **Till next time!**


	9. Chapter 9 - Butterfly Effect

**Will We Meet Again?**

 **Chapter 9** **. Butterfly Effect**

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 **A/N: Hey ya'll (psh, as if I could ever put on anything close to a realistic southern accent), welcome back to the story! As always, I'll be answering questions and doubts (even if no one has explicitly mentioned them in a review but might be wondering – just a few things I feel a bit iffy on, etc) in the A/N at the bottom of this chapter. For now though, enjoy the chapter!**

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 **.**

 _ **Entry no. 8**_

 _Lacuna_

 _(n.) A blank space, a missing part._

With him, it's something I see too much of. There he is, having already lived it - and then there's me, trying to catch up.

Maybe one day I'll find a spot, a time where we are the same. Equal in heart and understanding.

 **.**

* * *

"Jesus Christ, I forgot how much I hate exercise," I breathed in a lungful, hauling ass until we reached the clearing in the centre of the forest.

Even though I had officially _had it_ , ready to just walk in and plop down – the Doctor insisted on making a 'grand entry', and I suppose the Ravenclaw in me couldn't resist a part in his shenanigans. Naturally curious and all.

Slyly scaling the parameter, we arrived to just where River and Octavian were already bickering.

Amy was muttering under her breath. She had completely curled in on herself, huddled in the fetal position on a moss-covered log. Her long hair covered her face, but the small noises she kept making told me she was hurting.

"Our mission is to make this wreckage safe and neutralise the Angels. Until that is achieved–" Octavian was reprimanding her, clearly trying to convince her to leave us behind.

 _"Father Octavian,"_ River looked up, her eyes hard steel – a deathliness that told Octavian that the topic wasn't something she took lightly. "When either of them is in the room, your only mission is to keep them alive long enough to get everyone else home. And trust me – it's not easy. Now, if they're dead back there, I'll never forgive myself, and if they're alive, I'll never forgive them..."

She faltered. Her voice didn't give anything away – but like a cat, the cords in her back were wound tight.

"...And, Fiona, Doctor, you're standing right behind me, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah."

The Doctor was smirking. He sounded so sure of himself, but there was something about him in moments like this that took it a step further – a kind of self-assuredness that bordered on complete cockiness.

Now, reading people had always been a knack of mine. Back home, it was an added perk to running the shop – hundreds of weirdos came day in and day out. Whether it was their body postures, the flickers of emotion on their faces when they thought no one was looking, the haste in which they roved past book after book – I found that everything was telling. The stranger the better, I thought – more of a challenge.

 _But now_ , even though I had no earthly intention of sticking around any longer than I needed to – I found myself trying to read the Doctor. A man I was seemingly going to be stuck with for a while.

That wasn't surprising to me, though. The man was like the sun, something about him begged to be noticed.

He had people orbiting around him; some were so close it burned them; some were so far they were the coldest they could be because they wanted to be closer. The lucky ones were in the perfect distance to feel his warmness and live with him peacefully, for a time. In one way or another all the people that met him felt attracted to him. Maybe it was a time-lord thing.

All I needed to find out now was where I ranked in this little solar system of his.

 _But I knew I shouldn't have wanted that._

He had an unshakeable darkness to him when we were waiting in the command room. When he walked towards me, each step calculated and unfaltering, I felt a little bit of breath leave me each footfall. When he spoke, voice cold, it was like every other noise in the room hushed to listen in – like he was commanding the very air we were breathing.

I shivered.

I think it was then that I realised why no companion ever stayed too long – why he was so revered through space and time.

 _He was dangerous, in a way._

River's head swung to meet us, blonde curls swooping to the side – an uncharacteristic dose of clear relief in her baby-blue eyes. "I hate you," A feigned malice shone in those orbs – a sly grin dancing on her lips.

"Lies," I couldn't help myself. My mind was blank, but I felt lighter – not really knowing what to do with the information in my head.

"You really don't," The Doctor agreed.

The Doctor then, in all his heroics, got started issuing commands to Octavian – informing him about the horde of scary stone creatures making their way to us. All the while that was happening, I made my way closer to River, feeling an odd comfortableness with the woman that transcended how long I had realistically known her in this universe. But still, knowing what she was capable of, the slight wariness I felt remained.

Maybe it was because I knew what a 'Gemini' she was. A double-sided coin. On one hand, I'm sure she could choke the ever-living daylights out of anyone she wanted, and be big enough of a flirt to rival Captain Jack. But on the other, I knew she was a soft person that needed to be protected – if her shitty childhood and all the issues that came with was anything to go by at least.

"Hold up the fort much?" I took a seat close to her on the ground. I brushed my cold hand across Amelia's forehead, feeling her stiffen then relax immediately. She was burning up – making me feel a bit like a worried mum.

River shifted her eyes downward as she watched me, thick black lashes brushing the apples of her high cheeks. Her lashes were long and thick, framing ice blue eyes in such a way that could be considered seductive without even trying. She flashed me a quick, wan smile – face tired.

"As well as ever, precious. How did you go about convincing the Martian to join us?"

"By telling me the crack was the end of the universe." The Doctor suddenly appeared by our sides. Still a little unnerved by him and what had happened before, I surprised myself by shrinking away a little, as he got closer. If he noticed, he didn't let it show. He gave River a half-hearted scowl, "And I don't look anything like a Martian. That's very offensive."

"What was it really?" Amy questioned in a small, broken murmur.

"The end of the universe," The Doctor, shrugged – like it was something you'd see every old Tuesday. He then quickly grabbed the med-scanner River had just been holding, "Let's have a look then."

"So... What's wrong with me?" Amy asked, voice weak.

"Nothing. You're fine," River cooed softly, reassuring the woman with a gentleness I hadn't seen from her before.

The Doctor huffed, rolling his eyes. "Everything, you're dying."

"Doctor!" River scolded, eyes angry.

"Yes, you're right, if we lie to her, she'll get all better!" He drawled, his sarcasm levels going through the roof. Then, his train of thought seemed to do a complete 180 as he turned to the device in his hand, "Right. Amy! Amy. What's the matter with Amelia? Something's in her eye. What does that mean? Doesn't mean anything."

"Doctor," Amy whimpered like a child, too scared to say anything more.

He waved her off, "Busy."

"Scared!"

"Course, you're dying, shut up!"

I made a face at his back, a tiny bit pissed off at how he forgot humans were scared, sensitive little things when faced with life-threatening complications. You'd think that after centuries of being alive, he'd be less callous.  
I smoothed Amelia's silky hair down flat to comfort her, much like I would to Jackson when he couldn't get to sleep, "Don't listen to him Red, you'll be peachy keen in no time."

Maybe it was me trying to repay Amy in some small way for her help in the corridor, but I wanted her out of pain ASAP – even if I barely knew how to comfort someone outside of patting them on the head like a lame-o.

The Doctor suddenly jolted, "What happened? She stared at the Angel, she looked into the eyes of an angel for too long..."

"Sir! Angel, incoming!" A cleric shouted. Angling my head to catch a glimpse of what he was talking about might've been a bad decision, because the second I looked, I caught eye of an Angel watching like a sentry from the trees – like a prowling predator, stalking it's next meal.

"And here," Another cleric called out.

Octavian wasted no time in taking lead, barking orders to his men, "Keep visual contact. Do not let it move!"

The Doctor continued to pace around the clearing, slapping the side of his head. "Come on, come on, wakey, wakey! She watched an Angel climb out of the screen. She stared at the Angel and… and..."

"The image of an Angel is an Angel." Amy finished, closing her eyes.

" _I don't mean to rush this –"_ River's eyes sought me out, her voice low enough to only be intended for me as she ignored the Doctor and his processing of what was causing Amy's infliction. "– but if you had anything useful?" She nudged towards the Doctor, clearly wanting me to spill.

"Give him a second, Song," I sighed. I understood River's plight, empathising over her obvious worry for her mum. Even so, I didn't want to fuck up the Doctor's thinking – like, what if he came across another monster like the weeping Angels in the future and he needed this info to help?

If math class had taught me anything in the short amount of time I actually studied, and as small as that 'anything' could've been = answers without the working-out were practically useless.

It was risky getting in his head – giving him information and taking away all the work that went into finding that knowledge. I had seen it in the control room, when his eyes sparkled at the words I let slip as I tried getting him out of there.

I couldn't blame him entirely, the offer was tempting.

He'd say he wasn't human in the slightest – but I saw a flicker of rapacity there that most people commonly associated with the race of men – if 'Lord of the Rings' had taught me anything. All I could do was hope he wasn't hording a ring with unlimited power that ended up turning him into a Nazgul.

Though I knew, as long as I didn't say too much, we'd both be in the clear. That I would need to build a well in my mind where all that info stayed safely hidden from inquisitive eyes.

Allies and enemies alike.

"A living image in a human mind. We stare at them to stop them getting closer, we don't even blink and that's exactly what they want, 'cause as long as our eyes are open, they can climb inside. There's an Angel in her mind." His eyes widened when he realised what he had just said, his hand slapping against his mouth in horror.

"Three. Doctor, it's coming. I can feel it. I'm going to die!" Amy cried, shaking even though River and I tried holding her down.

The Doctor growled low in his throat, his eyes piercing a hole through Amelia's face like it held the answers he needed. "Counting, what's that about?" He pressed the radio to his lips, "Christian, why are they making her count?"

"To make her afraid, sir."

"Fine, but why? Why would you want her to be afraid?" The Doctor demanded, his frustration poorly concealed.

"For fun, sir."

Watching the world devolve into chaos around me, I felt even more useless than that pasty chick from those movies with the glittery vampires. I hated it.  
The Doctor kept ranting, River was looking more and more stressed by the second, Octavian and his men kept their unblinking eyes turned to the angels, and there I sat – useless.

I wasn't soft – not entirely. I'd like to think I didn't give a shit about other people, most times. What did they matter after all? If they weren't directly related to me – what gave me the right to feel so deeply – like a mockery of what people who actually knew them felt?

I needed to be passive – callous – towards everyone and everything. I had had this thought before.

But _Amelia_ , wasn't she related to me in a way – wasn't she under my care? I had played a part in saving her from the angel before, so how could I not do anything now? Even though we looked the same age, she looked younger now – too young to be so afraid for her life.

And so, knowing I couldn't go against my better judgement of just yelling at her to clamp her eyes shut – I did the only thing my heart would let me do.

I started humming. Low enough for it to only reach Amy, in amongst all the noise.

With her head cradled in my lap, I started humming the theme that'd play on the show when Amelia was a child, sitting in her backyard cladded in her pyjamas and wellies – when she was just a young tot waiting for her raggedy man to show up.

It was a tune that sounded alot like space and loneliness and hope.

Somehow, despite the fact that we barely knew each other, and that I was far too much a stranger to be acting like her mum or like a sister, I felt needed. Because even now, Amy Pond was just a little girl waiting in a garden – a girl that needed a lot of hope.

A second passed, maybe five – but no one so much as moved. The Doctor stopped talking, River stopped taking deep breaths, and Amelia – Amelia stopped shaking.

Somehow, my eyes had instinctively fallen shut as I tried to calm Amy down with my voice. Prying them open, I found a sight that threatened to turn me into a grinning loon.

Amy, with her eyes _shut_ , had the most serene look on her face – the scanner in River's hand showing that she was perfectly healthy – the readings turning from red to green. Then the look of peace, like she was seconds away from dozing off, slowly turned into slight confusion.

"What–what happened? It doesn't hurt anymore," Amy said evenly, sounding less strained than she had before.

I looked up, broken from my own trance, and into the Doctor's face. He looked partially dazed, but the look on his face – well, it made me feel like the first day of summer. When breaths are invisible after months of fogginess and the birds are more active in the sky, lingering clouds after a dense layer of winter grey. The feeling of stretching my hands out against the sun, not hot enough to burn, but enough to warm.

I blushed peach, embarrassed.

"Inside your head, in the vision centres of your brain, there's an Angel." The Doctor took a seat beside Amy, much calmer than he had been, "It's like there's a screen, a virtual screen inside your mind, and the Angel – it was climbing out of it, to shut you off."

The Doctor stood up again. Walking forward with his back to us, like he was contemplating, "If it was a real screen, what would we do? We'd pull the plug – but we couldn't have done that, the Angel would've taken over."

"Starve the Angel." River realised, her eyes going as wide as saucers.

"And now, just how would you go about starving your lungs?" I asked coyly, smiling at River as she just seemed to melt and come alive again with how hard her brain had probably exploded.

 _"Stop breathing_!" The Doctor snapped his fingers, swirling around with eyes dancing, "Fiona Moore, you're brilliant you!"

"You did it!" River suddenly grabbed me, planting a huge, fat kiss on my cheek.

Even though I was beside myself with embarrassment, I couldn't help but laugh at that. This was everything I normally hated – attention, praise, _attention_ – but something just couldn't stop the smile that plagued my face. Somehow, I felt I knew how Nine had felt when he saved all those people in 'the Doctor Dances' – it was the little things, little victories that made the largest feelings grow.

And the fact that it was actually me this time – something I had done without using the foreknowledge I had. Now that was something I actually allowed myself to feel worthy over.

I chuckled, wiping away traces of what I'm sure was hallucinogenic lipstick, "Yeah, try not to be too awed by my mediocre voice."

"Sir? More angels!" A cleric, someone I'm sure Octavian had called Marco, shouted from the edge of the perimeter.

"T-three more over here!" Another cleric, maybe Bob, called from a closer distance.

River tucked away her scanner, an air of decision-making now replacing the happy one."Still weak, too dangerous to move her."

Amy slowly began to sit up, "So, can I open my eyes now?"

The Doctor made a pained face, kneeling down to look Amy in the face, even if she couldn't see him. "Amy, listen to me. If you open your eyes now for more than a second, you will die. The Angel is still inside you. We haven't stopped it, we've just sort of...paused it. You've used up your countdown. You cannot open your eyes."

I knew Amy probably had a few extra seconds on her because of my intervening – the 'countdown' being much less imminent for when she did have to open her eyes. I was going to mention it, before Octavian interrupted with a grimace on his blocky face.

"Doctor, we're too exposed here. We have to move on," He pressed, looking like he'd pop a vein if he looked at us any harder.

"Calm down Chuckles, we're on it," I rolled my eyes at the man. His eyes lit up in indignation at the nickname, but he didn't press. Instead, his hands curled a little tighter around his gun – making me frown. Was Octavian really just this high-strung, 'Richard Vernon' type? Did he have nothing redeemable about himself whatsoever?

I didn't want Octavian to _just_ be that asshole people came to hate in stories – because I knew he was more than that. Because people were more than just black and white.

The Doctor straightened up, oblivious to the tension between Octavian and myself. "We're exposed everywhere. Amy can't move..." I might have been mistaken, but I could've sworn his eyes flickered towards my leg too. Just for a moment. "–and anyway, that's not the plan."

I snorted, "You have a plan?"

"Well, not yet, I haven't finished talking," The Doctor grinned dashingly, his dimples cutting into his cheeks like he knew he just said something endearing.  
"Right! Father, you and your Clerics, you're going to stay here, look after Amy. If anything happens to her, I'll hold every single one of you personally responsible, twice. Love," He suddenly bent down in front of me, "You, me and River, we're going to find the Primary Flight Deck which is –"

He stuck a finger in his mouth – probably disease-ridden after traversing through a decrepit, abandoned mausoleum of a place – and then held it straight in the air.

"A quarter of a mile straight ahead, and from there we're going to stabilise the wreckage. We'll stabilise the wreckage, stop the Angels, and cure Amy."

I looked at him slowly. _It was now or never._

"Yeah, and I was thinking maybe not that."

He froze in his fast-paced shoes. His eyes trailed up to mine in way that threatened me reconsidering the plans I had been plotting since Christian and Angelo's deaths.

"Come again?" He narrowed his eyes dubiously while still maintaining that trademarked look of false innocence.

"Ok, hear me out," I winced, "'A', I want to stay with Amy because I don't want her to be out here with no one but her lonesome self," Amy grumbled incoherently from beside me, "And 'B', there are reasons I need to stay." I looked at him, imploring.

"And what reasons are so important I'd even consider leaving you behind, unprotected," His expression remained unchanged, like he knew he was perfectly right. A part of me was confused while the other wanted to laugh.

 _Unprotected?_ With a dozen guards, armed with assault rifles? – Did he think I was the Queen of Sheba or something?

"Ah, now those are confidential," I smiled sheepishly at him, tapping a finger to my temple.

He rolled his eyes, completely unbudged.

"Well then, that's a no-can-do," The Doctor shook his head, almost like he was lightly telling off a child for making a scene in a supermarket. He got up then, extending an arm out to me "Come along, Moore."

With a rush of defiance, I crossed my arms – raising an eyebrow at his tone. "No, I'm not going."

"But you have to!" He whined, immediately wincing – almost like he regretted his approach.

 _Ding dong, even more wrong._ I gave him a look, "I really don't, you know."

"It's not safe here," he tried again, and finally I looked at him with eyes full of understanding.

"You know what – you make a compelling case, Doc."

"Really?" he asked, eyes alight.

My face fell again, the sarcasm going over his head completely, "No, you irrational pinecone!"

"Fiona–"

"Or suppose a reason C," The Doctor was stopped from making any more vain attempts trying to convince me, because of Octavian and his sudden appearance. The man was standing farther away and had seemed to have been listening in. "Ms. Moore's leg is severely damaged. I doubt she can make the walk."  
He grit his teeth, "just an educated word of caution, _sir_."

 _Oh ha ha, look who finally developed a sense of humour. And a backbone._

With my lips pressed together thinly – repressing the need to give Octavian a few choice suggestions about where he should stick his gun – I stayed quiet as the Doctor gave the man a withering look, suddenly holding himself as though he'd been addressed by an outsider on the topic – defensive.

I warily thought I was going to have to scrounge for another way to get him to listen as he turned to look at me, a billion emotions flickering in his eyes. _Hesitance, hurt, unwillingness_ – I couldn't even tell.

"I will be _right_ back. And if, somehow, you get yourself hurt because of something stupid – I'll be incredibly cross with you," He pressed – his eyes large, like he was trying to scold a child into following orders.  
His face then turned into something so much more deep, in a manner that caught me completely off-guard. He leaned down and gently scooped my hands into his. His voice was softer too when he spoke. "My life in your hands, Fiona Moore."

We must've made an entirely ridiculous sight, I realised – me, looking like I'd been to hell and back, and him, in his fancy-ish get-up and without a single hair out-of-place – holding hands, of all things. But it also made me realise that the Doctor, with eyes the same shade of newly sprouted seedlings, was looking the most genuine I had seen him all night. Like he was trying to send me a message that paralleled the sun and the stars with a look alone, only that I wasn't getting the memo.

"Don't be dramatic." I rolled my eyes at him, even though a small part of me wanted to know what he meant by his words.

I ended settling for him just meaning that my foreknowledge might seriously be about to make a whopping impact on his life and the people in it – but the way he said it gave me pause.

Then, like he was snapping out of a trance of sorts, he jerkily turned; already ready to follow Octavian to where River was waiting.

"Doc, before you go," I grabbed hold of his arm and felt muscle tense underneath the cotton. "I know this is probably bending the rules, but you need to listen to me. Don't keep your eyes off of Octavian, alright? Or River, for that matter," My voice was pressed, stern. "Stay close, even if it's awkward and you don't really like the guy."

Just like all time-altering decisions I had so far made in my downtime, I didn't have a single inkling on what the fuck I was doing. I just knew that Octavian's death was entirely unnecessary – and preventable. And regardless of how much of a colossal douche he was, there was reason enough to save him.

I held out a finger threateningly, "No angsty, time-wasting conversations either, okay?"

"Yes ma'am," He mock saluted, a boyish grin working its way back to its usual spot on his face. His next words were a promise, so acutely over-confident that you had no choice but to believe him. "See you on the other side."

He got me. I barked a laugh at his dramatic choice in wording. This send-off had a special level of 'extra' to it, to where even I had to wonder if I was in an action flick. I smiled at him, "Just say goodbye like a normal person, you dweeb."

"I never say goodbye." He shot back meaningfully. "I don't like endings. When you say goodbye, it creates the possibility of never seeing that person again. And I very much intend to see you again, my dear."

And with a light-hearted click of his tongue and a cheeky wink, he bounced up – ready to bundle off towards River and Octavian who were already ascending off the beaten track and into the forest.

"Have fun storming the castle!" I shouted after him, doing my best Billy Crystal. See, there were plenty of ways to say goodbye without _actually_ saying the word.

I watched him snort, even with his back turned to me and his form retreating. His head then turned ever so slightly back to me, just enough for him to make a funny face - to which I only found it fitting to return one, blowing raspberries with my eyes droopy.

He was so daft – I thought, smiling.

It seemed very fitting though, I thought, for Eleven to feel the way he did. For a man who ripped out the last pages to every book he kept – an absolute atrocity to me, of course – just because he didn't like endings... it made sense. It got me sad considering _why_ – a reason that absolutely decimated me back when this was just a show.

It was with Ten. All his companions – all his _friends_ , they all left him behind. Taking all that hurt and heartbreak turned him into the man he was now – which was exactly what I felt was easy to forget. To not see past his happy-go-lucky exterior was a major flaw to people who just so happened to get on his bad side – something that'd be keeping me very wary indeed.

With my eyes still glued to his retreating form sadly, I got up and headed off to the outskirts of the settlement – not far enough that I'd be Angel chow, but enough to give me a bit of space back. Once away, I was hit with the kind of relief only an introvert could understand, having finally being given the chance to recharge and recuperate – away from the direct presence of other people.

I comfortably nestled into my new spot between the roots of a large tree. The ground was artificial of course – even the way it looked made you think it'd feel like muddy moss – but, it actually felt alot like a patch of those fluffy carpets you'd want to stick your hands into as a kid.

I watched – still having a small view of the people I had accompanied – as the Doctor stopped near Amy. They were close enough to where I could still sort of make out what they were saying.

 _"...Doctor, please, can't I come with you?"_ Amy's voice was vaguely pleading, _"Me and Fiona. We should all stick together..."_

I wanted to agree, despite the fact that I knew Amy and I couldn't walk far – this was going to be getting a little too Scooby-doo 'let's split up and search for clues' for my taste.

I watched as Octavian must've said something vaguely condescending, leaving only when the Doctor waved him away. The Doctor then took a seat in front of Amy. It was hard to make out what they were saying but I caught traces.

" _...We'll be back for you soon as I can. I promise."_

 _"You always say that."_

 _"I always come back."_

The Doctor smirked at her, even though she was none the wiser with her eyes shut. He shot up after that, his voice turning into a boom so he could address everyone, "Good luck everyone. _Behave_. Do _not_ let this girl open her eyes. And absolutely _do_ listen to anything that girl with the grey eyes has to tell you – trust me, she knows better than you do. And keep watching the forest. Stop those Angels advancing. Amy, Fio, later!"

He patted Amy on the head like a puppy, bidding her farewell. I gave him a two-finger salute when he turned to look at me, a bit flattered by his words. Any doubts I had that he wouldn't see me because of the rush he was in dissipated when he quickly nodded, shooting me one last undecipherable look before he was bouncing off.

"Yeah. Later."

Amy's voice was the last thing I heard, her face being the last thing I saw before I screwed my eyes shut – because I didn't want to risk a thing.

 _This is when it happens and I truly didn't want to be a part of it._

"Amy. You need to start trusting me, it's never been more important."

 _Oh shit._

The Doctor's voice was back, but I knew better. Where the last voice had just been, the voice that had ushered us instructions at an alarmingly jovial rate, had been replaced with a tired duplicate. This was the Doctor from the future – reliving parts of his incredibly long life.

"But you don't always tell me the truth."

"If I always told you the truth, I wouldn't need you to trust me."

"Where's Fiona?" Amy questioned, just loud enough for me to hear.

It's funny; I could swear I almost heard him take in a sharp intake of breath, even though they were far enough for me to be struggling with the words. Something about that made my guts twist uncomfortably.

"She's safe. I swear it."

His voice was soft and gravelly, and I couldn't help but be equal parts worried for what he was referring to as well as being worried for why he sounded so _defeated_. I mean, he was talking about me – future me, anyway – I had perfectly sound cause to be worried.

"Doctor," Amy's voice was barely above a whisper to me. "The crack in my wall, how can it be here?"

"I don't know yet, but I'm working it out. Now, listen. Remember what I told you when you were seven?"

Amy shook her head. "What did you tell me?"

"No, no _..._ That's not the point. You have to remember."

"Remember what? Doctor? _Doctor?"_

I strained my ears, trying to catch more from him – the future Doctor. A small part of me twinged in disappointment, for reasons I couldn't understand. Maybe a part of me actually wanted to talk to him, considering I hadn't met a version that was that far ahead, from what I knew. I wanted to know where he came from and if everyone else was safe – I wanted to know what he was thinking considering the circumstances he was in.

But it seemed like I was just the awkward third-wheel in this sitch. The Hermione to their Weasly-Potter duo – just less clever and with staler hair. Maybe I let myself get carried away. Maybe I was caring too much where I shouldn't have been.

My mind was swimming and my stomach lurching.

I let a sigh fall from my lips, before I heard the slight crunching of leaves from behind me.

"Fiona."

I flinched, a large part of me thinking that I'd open my eyes to a side of angel statue. But of course, the Angels didn't have voices – and even they did and had been playing the silent game all along in some bizarre circumstance, I would've been long dead by now.

I opened my eyes to look into another pair – those that resembled faded watercolour. Almost as though they were weary with age and the colour had slowly lifted over time.

The Doctor.

I couldn't help but notice, for what felt like the fifth-hundredth time, that there were more shades of the same hue in his eyes than there were whiskers on a fox, and every one of them was green. I took in his appearance next and couldn't help the worry I felt from seeing him so battered and bruised. His classic tweed jacket was torn in at least ten different places, his hair unkempt, and his bow-tie singed – almost like he had gotten too close to a lava pit of sorts.

"Hey there, hero," I smiled at him a bit apprehensively, my hands knotted behind my back. I didn't move a muscle from my spot sitting on the forest floor, my knees resting under my chin.  
"Thank god you're not an Angel. You almost gave me reason to call interplanetary health-line services," I clutched at my chest dramatically, signing that he had almost given me a heart attack, "If there even is such a thing."

He smiled softly, almost like he was going to laugh but like he knew better, as if it was the wrong place and the wrong time. He didn't move, doing nothing much other than studying me – just watching me somewhat fondly? As though he wasn't worried about a single other soul interrupting.

My expression sobered and I tried not to let the pensive look he was giving me shake me up. I tilted my head at him curiously, "What are you doing here, Doctor?"

Like that, his own face seemed to clear up – even if it was by just a little bit. His eyes turned nervous, like a cornered hare. "Do you... Do you know who- what I'm...?"

Wanting to wipe the distressed look away, I interrupted so that he didn't have to go on, "Yup, I know you're from the future. Pandorica, end of time and space as we know it, Big Bang number 2. The works."

Despite the lightness I was trying, and failing, to keep up – the Doctor just looked increasingly more distracted, "I don't have much time..."

That's when I got up, coming to stand just a foot away from him. For some reason, I just couldn't wipe my small smile off – like a part of me needed him to know it was okay.

"How'd you end up here, Doc?" I asked, a little less literally this time. The lopsided smile I was wearing didn't move an inch.

"I probably shouldn't tell you. Timey-Wimey, spacy-wacy," His voice was glum, dry – like he could barely get the words out. "I suppose I wanted to save you. I wanted to be the hero and save you for once."

I felt the smile falter, my eyebrows twinging in confusion, "But you're already the hero in this story, Doc."

"Is that really what you think of me?" He laughed an empty little laugh, his eyes drifting aimlessly to the artificial sky, "Well, I'm sorry to say that you're in for some disappointment, love."

Before I could ask him what the hell he was going on about, in the smallest voice I heard, " _I don't even know if I did it._ The world burned up because of me and now I don't even know if I saved you lot or left you to die."

I paused, finally realising. _The Doctor thought he was dying._

I knew that this was him reliving moments from his past, but it didn't fully hit me – what he must be feeling. The Doctor had sacrificed himself, with little to no hope for himself – so that Amy could have her family back. So that whatever happens is _supposed_ to happen.

I knew he'd do it. That he'd be successful and that Amelia Pond will indeed get her mum and dad back, but he didn't know right now – and that's what mattered.

In the books – the stories long since passed, those of fictional worlds, and in those that were set beyond the furthest reaches a man's mind could think up – death was a theme that was always omnipresent. Now I had never gotten that close, aside from losses in the family – but if stories held any semblance of the truth, I knew that the Doctor had to be very, very scared.

"Doctor–" I started, before my voice wavered. What could I possibly say that could change the way he felt, without spoiling the future and possibly changing more than I had already?

So, instead of looking for some magic, problem-solving answer, I gave into my own frustration – letting my feelings slip into the words, "I wish I could fix this. I wish you didn't have to be alone right now."

In surprising action, I watched as a trace of his usual youthfulness returned, his lips lifting into a semi-unburdened smile.

"I'm not. I'm here with you in this robotic, angel-infested forest," He laughed, a sound so foreign to how he was right now. He looked at the sky again, and I could tell by the twinkle in his eye that he noticed the fake stars – a simulation even if they looked real to me. "I'm just relieved you're going to end up somewhere safe – I hope."

"Stop thinking about it," I entreated, not wanting the stressed look to return. Instead, a part of me just wanted to talk – something I felt I hadn't been given the chance to do with the Doctor yet.

I had also taken notice of how he seemed so calm, so unlike the maddeningly fast version of him I had just been with. I knew I should've been glad to have a chance with him like this, have the chance to catch up like I had wanted, but it also struck me how utterly _wrong_ it was to see him so resigned.

"I can see the same look on Amy's face that I can on yours," He said suddenly, his hands in his trousers pockets as he watched me closely.

"Ah, glad to see you've finally caught onto our beguiling good looks," I winked at him. With that, I earned a deep chuckle and a roll of the eyes, and for a second that seemed enough.

Even with that zinger, I knew that the Doctor was undeterred – ready to get his point across. "You don't trust me. I know it now, I knew it then."

My eyes widened and I thought back to the Doctor that had left with Octavian and River. How much was it that he minded I trust him, if it was important enough for him mention now?

"He doesn't show it, but he notices." His eyes flickered to where a younger Doctor had just left. His eyes seemed to soften then, resembling the hidden crystalline pools you'd find in the middle of a dark green forest. "I know you're not one to listen to what people tell you – at all –" he snorted, "but I wish you'd learn to trust me."

Surprising myself, I felt a sudden rush of anger spike my lungs. I felt my expression turn slightly bitter.

I wasn't going to stay. How many times did I have to tell him – myself – that?

"But don't you see, Doc? This is going to end. It'll _end_ eventually. I'll go on with my life – with my family, and you won't care about me then," I stared at him stressfully, trying to remember and recall the sharp, uncaringness I felt towards him when we first met – because when and why the hell did I drop my guard so low? A part of me realised I had probably screwed myself by letting my emotions take charge.

This was going to hurt when it was over, I thought surely. Even when I leave, a small part of me's never going to be the same, is it?

"Don't you care about us? Even a little bit?" The Doctor's tone wasn't hostile, he just looked – _sad_. Like my answer could deeply hurt him. "Wouldn't you miss us?"

"Of course I do," I hesitated, my mind drifting back to humming. Amy, in that moment, trusted me like she would a good friend. River too, like she had known me her whole life. My next words weren't hesitant, "Of course I would."

"Then stay," his words seemed to make it all sound so simple – even though I knew the truth was far from it.

I smiled at him – even though my heart wasn't in it any longer. "Everything is temporary. This is one of those things. I look at you, and I look at the wonderful people in your life. And I just don't... _fit_."  
I looked at him, trying to get even the smallest trace of what I was feeling out, so he knew how this felt. "It's all too bright. You're all stars, burning through space. And me? I'm a speck of dust compared to you.

That's what it was. That was _exactly_ what it was.

I had compared him to the sun before, his companions the planets in constant orbit. Well, I was Pluto – a small cold rock that didn't even constitute for the position of a planet anymore.

 _So, so insignificant in comparison._

And plus, it had to end – it just had to. I didn't belong here, I had a life. It was all a mantra I had to nail into my brain so I didn't get too carried away.

The Doctor looked like he was about to respond before his attention was snatched. Like a dog catching notice of a squirrel, his head snapped to see something that I _couldn't_ see.

"It's time. I can't stay any longer."

I immediately frowned, because of course, I felt like I had the world's worth of questions left to ask him. That and that it really did feel like he was heading to his death – despite what I knew to be true.

"There now, don't be sad. Chin up, eh?" He gave me his trademark crooked grin, except that it wasn't anywhere near as full. "There are good things for you to come yet. Me? Well, I'll be fine," He gave me a sad smile. No. Sad sounded so childish, like something flimsy, compared to the absolutely glazed look in his eye. "Just an old man who's times finally caught up to him."

I felt a heavy lump in my throat, the kind you couldn't just swallow away. I looked at him, a twinge of worry in my voice, "Isn't 'fine' Time-lord code for 'really not good at all'?"

He chuckled emptily, the sound like rocks hitting concrete. For a second we sat knee deep in silence, him looking keenly like he wanted to do something, but like he'd inevitably refrain. The air was so brittle it felt like it could snap, and if it didn't, I might've. Neither one of us spoke, because what was there left to say? Platitudes couldn't cut it right now. Then, like the world was crashing down in the span of a second, there came this terrifying sense of finality to everything about him – his posture, his expression. Even his eyes.

He looked at me again.

"Goodbye Fiona Moore."

No – no _wait_. He hated goodbyes, he had told me so himself. Increasingly panicked, my eyes darted to the crease between his eyebrows and the positively heart-breaking sight he made.

 _Goddamn me and goddamn the concept of empathy._

Before I even knew what I was doing, I had grabbed him by the hand and tugged him back – so, so close to not being able to his face before he completely turned away. It felt like a haze really, but I was partially conscious of the fact that I had pulled him around, having wrapped my arms around his neck – my chin resting on his shoulder so that I couldn't see the kind of face he was making.

And so that he couldn't see the grimace on mine.

' _Gee, who could've guessed this'd be a terrible idea?' I hear you asking. Well, I could have, you dollop-head – if I had more time to think and didn't have the pressure of a thousand suns put on me to do something so incredibly awkward._

I was severely, _severely_ uncomfortable – every inch of me crawling, with my brain shouting at me that I was a massive idiot. I was hugging an immortal terrestrial from outer space for Christ's sake! And even though I knew he had done so in the past, nothing could've prepared me for the total embarrassment I could've felt doing the same.

But then my thoughts ever so slowly began to trickle into the background when I found, from the way he had wrapped his arms across my back securely, like he was almost afraid to let go – I felt like maybe this Doctor was someone who hugs never could be long enough for.

 _Why was he letting me do something like this?_ I thought worriedly. I knew why _I_ had – a quick act of trying to offer some comfort to a seemingly dying man – but him? Why was he letting his shoulders sag in my arms, so completely vulnerable?

Sooner than later, the heat from his fingers began to creep into my consciousness and I wanted to pull my hands away.

 _Touch_. So long had I gone without it that I didn't think I even wanted it anymore. It felt like an invasion, an unwanted intimacy. Right now he needed someone who'd melt into his arms like ice cream on a warm porcelain bowl – someone who wanted nothing more to still the slight tremble in his shoulders. _I just couldn't._

So instead of patting him, holding him closer, whispering saccharinely sweet words of comfort – instead of doing anything I imagined he needed – I stood still. Then, with what little time I had left, I tried to do something – anything – as little a favour as it might've been.

"Until next time, Doc," I reassured him, my arms tightening for just a second.

 _There were plenty of ways to say goodbye without actually saying the word._

And I wanted him to know that he'd see me again.

Then, before the last syllable had even left my mouth I was clutching at air, my hands falling through just as easily as they would have through fine sand. Time had slowed once more. Then, after time unmeasurable, a bird sang, bringing me back into the moment with nothing more left of the Doctor other than the faint scent of something comforting.

It tickled my nose, the slight pepperiness the scent held – but at its base was something warm. It made my heart heavy with nostalgia, reminding me of the days I'd spend cooped up at the neighbourhood library when I was a kid. And like my shop that came after –

It was undoubtedly the smell of aging books.

I heard movement from not too far off, my mind jolting out of its little episode and back into the present. The figure emerging from behind a tree wasn't at all an angel, in fact, I'm sure you couldn't have gotten anything more far off than the lanky, red-eared man who was timidly walking over to me.

"Hey Bob," I smiled absently. I was genuinely happy to see the kid again, but after what had just happened unbeknownst to everyone else in the clearing – it was hard not to let my voice shake.

"Ma'am," He nodded respectfully, looking a lot more comfortable talking to me than the first chat we had. Even so, I thought I could still detect a faint pinkness on the tips of his ears.

He looked ready to give me a status update of sorts – judging from the thinly veiled anticipation on his face – almost like he believed I was in charge of the Doctors position while he was gone. Once he had gotten closer however, I watched the expression drop and his eyebrows furrow, "Are you alright ma'am?"

I felt an eyebrow twitch, my smile wavering. "Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

What started as a small seed of concern grew into full-blown panic on Bob's face. His eyebrows hit his hairline and the gun almost fell from his hands as he cried, "Because the t-tips of your fingers are glowing!"

 _No. It couldn't happen so soon._

This was the most important part – the place I was needed more than anything.

Ugh, I seriously wanted to make myself sit through a continuous sitting of the 'Star Wars' prequels to punish myself for having such a poor grasp on these new responsibilities.

If Octavian's men did what I knew they were going to do if they were left unattended, they'd all stupidly walk into the light and cease to ever be born – leaving Amelia completely defenceless in the middle of a forest that nearly matched the ' _nope'_ levels of the one from Harry Potter. Except that, instead of unicorns, centaurs, and spiders, Amy would be left to the good graces of terrifying, neck-snapping rock people.

My head turned and my eyes darted to meet the foreboding white light emerging from the forest before something increasingly peculiar caught my attention.

With my heart thundering in my ears like the banging of loud drums, my eyes coming in and out of focus – I held a hand up in front of me to where it was right in from of the light.

The two lights were even more similar than I had thought. Scratch that – _they were practically the same thing._

But that was something I was going to have to think about later.

"Bob." I turned to look at the boy very, very carefully – feeling a sense of desperation and quickness I had never felt before – so disorientating it almost made me sick. "You need to listen. In a few moments, each and every one of you is going to die if you walk into the woods, understand?"

"M-miss, I don't–"

I took him by the shoulders, giving him a firm shake to make him understand, "Take care of your men. Take care of Amelia. Do not, under _any_ circumstances let them leave this clearing – just close your eyes and don't look into the light. This is your moment kid."

I felt the white light spread like fire through my blood. Still, I tried my damndest to smile at the soldier, even if it came out looking more like a grimace. My mind strayed back to our conversation in the caves and it struck me.

He was saved for a reason, even if I wasn't doing it intentionally at the time, this was Bob's _moment_.

 _Butterfly effect._

I had saved Bob, and now he was going to save them all. I knew he had it in him, under all the shyness – just like I had when I met the Doctor.

I smiled again, the sincerity I felt seeping into it. It was stronger than even the pain itself.

"Great things," I said to him slyly, the same way I had when he looked so unsure, questioning, in the caverns. I wanted to let him know that even though he was human – one 'puny' man – he could still do something as important as a Timelord. Be a part of the stories he was raised on.

I watched something flicker behind his eyes, but I knew it was time. No longer than a second later was I seeing through blindingly bright crystals – burning my retina's the longer I stared. The light had taken me completely as I felt myself being lifted and tossed into the vacuum of space – or wherever it took me to when I moved.

Knocking the wind out of me and taking near most of all the strength I had left, I fell to my knees – my legs hitting the cold exterior of familiar grating as the deafening sound of wind started to leave.

A deep voice then came to cut through the rushing air, demanding all of me to look up and see who it belonged to – even though I had a pretty good guess.

" _So, where was I?"_

The owner of the voice was grinning a Cheshire grin, his eyes new and a tiny bit mad.

"Oh, _that's right._ Barcelona! **"**

* * *

 **A/N: Hello there! Okay, starting off – so I know most of you can tell where the next chapter is set by the cliffhanger, but trust me when I say that the next chapter and the one after will have some of the biggest story moments yet in regards to character growth and progression.**

 **I really want to start delving deeper into the Doctors timeline instead of only focusing on the versions I have been (even though I love them all!) – so do tell if you have any preferences on which regenerations I should start including more of (even if you might want me to do what I have been and stick to new who – just telling me would be super helpful).**

 **I'd really like to thank SnarkyPenname, EiraFae, and notwritten for your enthusiasm and sweetness. I swear everyone I've seen post on this site is a darling, so thank you guys!**

 **Also another word of thanks to Rosealyn (love your name btw) – I'm so immensely happy you picked up on some of the themes I'm trying to go for, esp. since I didn't know whether they'd be well-received or not. I had been kind of iffy on how to balance the scales when it came to personifying the Doctor, but judging by this comment, I'd say I had found a happy medium (where it's sort of half-n-half in him being obviously alien and in being more like a human (since he's been around them for so long). + Super thanks for word on the OC and how 'un-flat' you say she is. That comment was super motivating since, even tho I'm at the point where I know what I want to do with her story, writing the emotions is still really hard.**

 **I also really wanna thank Nicole from Brazil! Oh my god, it's so amazing that someone so far away from where I live (Australia) actually reads this. I really appreciate your comment and really liked the points about the 12** **th** **Doctor. With that, I kinda want to wait to introduce him (in this big finale moment) – because Fiona doesn't know him at all (based on her timeline and how she stopped watching the show after the Eleventh Doctor) – but I definitely understand you p.o.v, considering I also adore twelve. Nine might not be so far off, so keep in check for that ;).**

 **As always, please do leave a review if you have any posing questions. I'd really appreciate people giving me some suggestions on what episodes you want me to include in upcoming chapters – be it old who, or new who – as long as you think they'd be interesting – so don't be afraid to share. Adios!**


	10. Chapter 10 - Christmas Invasion

**Will We Meet Again?**

 **Chapter 10** **.** **Christmas Invasion**

* * *

" _They say home is where you heart is set in stone, is where you go were when you're alone,  
is where you go to rest your bones.  
Is not just where you lay your head, is not just where you make your bed.  
As long as we are together does it matter, where we go?"_

 _Home – Gabrielle Aplin_

* * *

 _A deep voice came to cut through the rushing air, demanding all of me to look up and see who it belonged to – even though I had a pretty good guess._

" _So, where was I?"_

 _The owner of the voice was grinning a Cheshire grin, his eyes new and a tiny bit mad._

"Oh, _that's right._ Barcelona! **"**

Upon impact, the very first thing I caught sight of was leather. My heart skipped a stilted beat, imagining that I was close to meeting Nine.

That however, was long before my eyes trailed across the body, up to a familiar set of coppery eyes and scruffy hair. Ten was looking at me with an absent expression, like the gears in his head were registering a speed slower than what he was used to.

And then he smiled.

Like it was instinct – this effortless, pure little smile that looked like it was made up of every goddamn star in the sky. As cheesy as a thought it was, something about it felt justified.

"Doctor?" I asked, confused. I felt like fidgeting under his gaze, but there was something about the air holding me in place – something was _off_.

"Hello." His voice was breathy, but he dragged out each syllable.

There was something intriguing about the way he was looking at me too, drinking me in like it was the very first time in a long time that he'd seen me. On wobbly knees, he came to stand closer, a spark fizzling behind his eyes. He was about to say something, _do_ something – an apparent desire to act on what had seemingly lit up his eyes.

That was before his body begun spasming.

I took a massive jump back, trying to process what was wrong with this whole image.

Ten, wearing Nine's leather jacket and looking younger than ever could only mean two things – either he'd felt particularly nostalgic over his younger self, or... _oh no_.

Just as I had reached a conclusion on where I was, ready to help get the Doctor off the floor – a hand tugged me back harshly.

The sight of a new head of hair, this time gold like swirls of buttermilk, was enough to both relieve and strike me senseless.

Rose Tyler, body shaking from apparent shock and with eyes sharp enough to kill, had pulled me back to stand next to her – half concealed behind a pillar. She was staring daggers at the Doctor, observing each and every move of his' warily. What shocked me more than her look of complete distrust towards Ten, was the way she was clutching to my side and holding me in place, as if she were trying to protect _me_ from an enemy.

Almost as soon as it'd started, the newly regenerated Doctor got over his slight outburst of energy and dashed to the console. He began flicking switches, checking the monitor as if nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

"6 PM... Tuesday..." He spoke slow, his jaw rolling like he was testing it.

Rose and I stood frozen, wary as we watched the Doctor turn a couple of knobs. Despite the exciting finale I'm sure had taken off before I had gotten here, the air was scarily still – stilted, like we were all standing on a thin sheet of ice that could break with the use of a single wrong word.

"October... 5006... On the way to Barcelona!" He finished, standing tall as he finished using the console. He had straightened up then, grinning ear-to-ear as though he was extremely pleased with himself. He looked up at us. "Now then... what do I look like?"

My eyes were wide, shifting from the Doctor to Rose – who looked more scared now than she did hostile. I was about to try and break the silence when the Doctor immediately broke in, holding up a hand to silence us.

" _No!_ No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. _No._ Don't tell me!" He rambled quickly, getting into one of those adrenaline high moments of his – something I now realised was completely new for him. "Let's see... two _legs_ , two _arms_ , two _hands_..."

"Slight weakness in the dorsal tubercle," He noted, playing with his wrist, circling it around.  
And then, fast enough to make the ground shake, his hands flew up to his head, "Hair! I'm not bald!"

"Yeah, but you will be if you pull at it like that," I whispered under my breath, half snorting at the thought. Unluckily for me however – like Aragorn the ranger listening to the ground and having his crazy ears hear something a thousand miles away – The Doctor seemed to catch onto my smartass comment.

Immediately his face seemed to curl, pouting. "Fiona Moore, do _not_ jinx this! Look at my big hair!"

Just as the Doctor began going into another bout of new observations – something to do with his sideburns and his how thin he was now – I caught notice on how Rose's grip seemed to have loosened.

Now, instead of holding me in place with a cast-iron grip, she turned to look at me full on – like a mother wondering whether the weird stranger had hurt her baby.

" _Ona, you know 'im?_ _Why's he wearing the Doctor's clothes?_ " She whisper-stressed.

Her hazel-y eyes were ablaze with the question, but all my mind was saying was 'wow, the universe did a great job on her she was gorgeous, wow' – an appropriate reaction to meeting anyone as good-looking as Billie Piper, I'd say. I opted out for just stuttering a bunch of 'a's' and 'um's' – not at all in the right headspace to go on about explaining to her what regeneration was.

And if my memory did serve me correct, she'd find out soon enough.

Suddenly, the Doctor made an incredibly loud gasp of realisation – his face alight with the air of someone making the most wonderful discovery they'd ever make.

" I... have got... _a mole_. I can feel it," He rolled his shoulders, his voice reverent, "Between my shoulder blades, there's a mole. That's all right, love the mole."  
With our attentions having being snatched, and him looking like he had intended for it all along, he grinned at us funnily. "Go on then, tell me. What do you two think?"

What could I say? With him basically preening like peacock already – his hair all ruffled – he made an awfully easy target.

"You look like a loon," I smiled. "Like if a fox, Dr. Suess, and a stick of celery were all genetically spliced to make a person – you'd be the result, doc."

He looked so completely undeterred – like someone could compare him to a trash can right now and he'd find a way to compliment himself out of it.

"So you're saying I'm a tiny bit foxy?" He waggled his eyebrows, "And a tiny bit rhymy."

I rolled my eyes, the corners of my lips tugging up. It was strange, but a part of me felt like I could've gone on for hours just squabbling about nothing in particular with him. I suppose it was for the best that Rose took a step forward to interrupt.

" _Who are you?"_ She cut in, her voice so uncomfortable and scared that it actually made me feel bad for messing about. She turned to me, "You called _him_ 'doc'. Why're you talking to him like tha'?"

"Rose, he's the Doctor," I felt my eyebrows fall, because weirdly enough – like Amelia – Rose seemed oddly unguarded around me, like she had known me since long before now.

"No, why aren't you more worried?!" Her voice rose as she shook her head roughly, clearly not believing. "Where's the Doctor? _What's he done to him?"_

"You saw me, I, I changed..." The Doctor looked lost, indicating to the spot over his shoulder, the spot where he must've regenerated before I got here. "...right in front of you."

"I saw him sort of explode, and then you replaced him, like a... a teleport or a transmat or a body swap or something."

The Doctor seemed at a complete loss for words, prompting Rose to charge at him – looking like she was ready to pummel him for answers. Jumping in between them, I held my hands out to show her I meant to help.

"Rose, look at me," I garnered her attention, getting those angry eyes off the Doctor and on me.

"He regenerated. He changed his face so he didn't have to die. Now if you know me half as well as I feel you do" I cringed at that, still uncomfortable with the fact that Rose Tyler along with many other probable companions knew me better than I did them for some reason. "You'd know that I've met up with different versions of him. This Doctor happens to be one of that lot. Trust me."

She swallowed thickly, her eyes closing tightly as those she were trying to reign herself in. Opening them up again, she whispered in a pinched tone, almost like she believed the Doctor couldn't hear, "I trust you. It's him I don't trust."

The Doctor looked crest-fallen at that. "Rose, it's me. Honestly, it's me."

"Prove it," She looked at him, stubbornly cross.

"Fine. How could I remember this? Very first adventure we ever had together, the lot of us. Trapped in that cellar, surrounded by shop window dummies, oh such a long time ago. I took your hand and I said one word. Just one word, I said "Run"," He grabbed her hand to emphasise the point, swinging it around merrily. He looked at her happily while her own eyes were wide.

"Doctor?" She exhaled. Her sigh was softly deflating – it was as if a tension had lifted yet left her with a melancholy instead of relief.

He grinned at her, completely oblivious to her clear sadness, "Hello."

I frowned at the scene. I felt uncomfortable – like a freaking stalker breaking in on a stalk-ee's intimate moment. Though, I suppose a stalker would've enjoyed the transgression – it being a part of their jobs after all. I just stood awkwardly still, wishing I were anywhere else.

 _Because they were the Doctor and Rose Tyler!_ Even though I had just met his wife in the future, I knew that this relationship he had with her here was important. There was no possible way to be moony about that.

"And we never stopped, did we? All across the universe. Running, running, running..." The Doctor hopped back to the console flicking a few switches and assembling coordinates. He then spun round with a snap, his eyes finding mine, "And you! Never stopped jumping."

He stepped forward then – towards me. The look on his face was mischievous, like he was playing a game he knew he was gonna win at – hands in his pockets like was trying to be unassuming. He stopped until he was just a hair's breadth from invading my personal space. "Would you like me to 'prove it' to you too, or d'you believe I'm me?"

"Let's go with option one. I still have my doubts about you, stranger," I responded with mock-scepticism. Of course I believed he was the doctor, but I would've been a lot less clever than I gave myself credit for if I didn't try and squeeze as much information as I could out of him, where I could.

"Right, well – now this is trickier, it was so long ago after all – but I do say I vividly remember the first time I met you, Fiona Moore," He spoke like he was teasing – making me grow a hell of a lot more worried. A, because he was beginning to look increasingly more like a drunk – with me realising he wasn't even supposed to be up on two legs now – and B, because I didn't know how to feel about finding out about the future.

At least where I was involved.

The Doctor however, didn't take notice of my expression – his face looking as though he were reminiscing, "It was late that day. The sky like fire that's how red the afternoon's were. I had snuck into the woods, close to the drylands, to get to the secret stash of books about Earth I kept hid. He didn't like me reading them after all. That's when I found you. I thought you had eyes that matched the trees themselves, y'know?"

My eyebrows shot up. What in the seven hells was I supposed to do with that?

The Doctors words were semi-slurred. So much so in fact that barely any of what he was saying was entirely coherent. And while the bits I could make out were all incredibly poetic – they still sounded like the drabbles of a man who was half asleep and half mad. I was saved from having to come up with a reply when Rose spoke up.

"Can you change back?" She questioned him rather harshly.

The Doctor in turn looked despondent. "Do you want me to?"

"Yeah," Her tone was final, sharp enough to cut.

"Oh," His face fell, then he turned, almost apprehensively to me – like he was gearing to walk out into a storm, "And you..."

"Don't be daft," I huffed, my bottom lip jutting out, redirecting the air-flow to ruffle the long bangs framing my face. "Of course I don't want you to. You're still you after all."

He looked down at me, wide-eyed –his mouth slightly parted. _"_ Oh."

There was something in his tone I wasn't expecting. _Disbelief_. Like he actually might've been thinking I'd say the opposite. I felt my heart soften a bit, rolling my eyes because he had actually gotten to me. He must've been quite the stupid genius, I thought softly – to think I'd say otherwise.

I punched him in the shoulder lightly, telling him without words to stop being so dumb – only to have him beam back – almost like I'd given him the best compliment he'd received all week.

Rose, on the other hand, seemed completely unrelenting. She couldn't seem to care in the slightest that he was hurt by her words. "Can you though?"

"No." The Doctor ended, seeming rather disappointed in how Rose was handling this. He looked at her curiously, "Do you want to leave?"

"Do you want me to leave?" She panicked, voice picking up an octave.

"Of course not, Rosie. He's giving you a choice," I sighed, my heart going out for her. I took a step forwards and put a hand on her shoulder, "For the record, I don't want you gone either."

She smiled a small smile along with me, some of the obvious strain draining away from her face. It was true I absolutely didn't want her gone, especially since I hadn't even gotten to know her yet.

The Doctor, jumped right back though, going off on the console. "Cancel Barcelona. Change to... London... the Powell Estate... ah... let's say the 24th of December. Consider it a Christmas present. There."

He stepped back, his arms tucked under his armpits in an almost defensive manner.

Rose looked at him, suddenly, as though she were scared for her life, "I'm going home?"

The Doctor's expression was veiled – looking a bit darker than I remembered, "Up to you. Back to your mum... it's all waiting. Fish and chips, sausage and mash, beans on toast... Christmas, turkey."

"Oh, something bad always happens to you on Christmas though," I said to him, my eyes narrowed.

"I suppose it does. Or maybe that's just bad timing!" He flipped a switch, smiling an exuberant smile, "The universe is full of coince-"

The Doctor stopped in his tracks, his eyes like a deer stuck in headlights as he gagged. The TARDIS shuddered under our feet, almost like she was connected to the Doctor. Rose and I both looked at the man with worry.

"What?" Rose prodded him to go on.

"I said coincede-" He choked again, like a cat trying to cough up a hairball. When the nasty retching noises stopped we watched on in confusion as a gold cloud of golden mist filtered out from the Doctor's mouth. "Oh... the change is going a bit wrong and all."

He fell to his knees harshly, his face contorted. His hands clutched tightly onto the metal grate, his body shaking like he was in pain. I treaded forward, a tad apprehensively if anything, and patted his shoulder.

"Hold on. Just get the TARDIS to where she needs to go before you die and leave us stuck in space. Then you can get your beauty sleep."

"Excellent plan," He grimaced, dragging himself off the floor and onto the console. Like a switch had flipped, he got this look in his eye – one that clearly said he was off his rocker. He tugged onto a lever, "I haven't used this one in years."

Seconds after flicking it, The TARDIS began to shudder violently –nearly knocking us to our feet.

"What're you doing?!" Rose shouted at him, her voice irritated.

The Doctor smiled a little crazily at her, "Putting on a bit of speed! That's it!" "My beautiful ship! Come on, faster! That's a girl!" He began turning more knobs while Rose tries to maintain a more secure grip on the console.

I had grabbed a tight hold on one of the coral pillars, the spiny texture digging into my skin painfully.

I couldn't help the distinct alarm beginning to gallop through my veins. The Doctor was looking and sounding violent, crazed. I felt myself go mute, the fear of how much this all felt like an amusement park ride on the verge of destruction, making my heart go into panic mode.

"Faster! _Wanna break the time limit?"_

"Stop it!" Rose shouted at him – but all her attempts were in vain.

"Ah, don't be so dull... let's have a bit of fun! Let's rip through that vortex!"

I had had it. With my survival instincts kicking in, I waited for the TARDIS to violently rock again before I let go and collided into the console, rather painfully. I landed close to the Doctor, catching his eye.

 _Logic, use logic_ , my mind was yelling at me. Rose was shouting at him – her anger just spurring him on. Could it be that easy to just do the opposite?

"Stop this, you dolt!" I started, my panic and frustration taking the best of me. Then, trying my damndest to keep my voice steady, I tried being softer – wanting him to calm down. "I-I know you've just regenerated and you don't know what kind of a man you are yet, but I do. And this isn't it."

I meant what I said. From all versions I knew of the Doctor, I remembered him being the most human. And even though humans could be stupid, reckless little creatures – which he do just as convincingly – I knew he had the largest penchant to do good.

Now then - was it my imagination, my stupid hopeful brain trying to find something where there was nothing, or did something odd just flicker in his eyes?

His face seemed to cool down, calm for only a moment, "The regeneration's going wrong. I can't stop myself. I don't want you hurt," He clutched his head in pain, "Ah, my head..."

He violently sprung up into standing position again, his voice having gone back to being crazed.  
"Faster! Let's open those engines!"

"What's that?" Rose shouted over the loud, suspiciously like an alarm, sounding sound.

"We're gonna crash land!" The Doctor shouted, appearing over my shoulder. He grabbed hold of my arm, almost like he was actually bracing me for what was about to come.

" _I swear to god, if you get us killed – I'm going to murder you_ ," I glared at his stupid grinning face.

"I'll be looking forward to that!" He laughed manically, "Oh, I love it! Hot dawg!"

Rose screamed. "You're gonna kill us!"

"Hold on tight, here we go!" the Doctor smirked madly, _"Christmas Eve!"_

* * *

"Here we are then, London! Earth! The Solar System – we did it!"

The doors were thrown open and all I could think about was finding a bush to puke my guts out into – the next step being to throttle the Doctor for being such an ass, because I honestly felt as mad as a hippo with a hernia right now.

He had been so unbelievably mad just then. Like insanity had stole into his mind like a deranged thief, adding new dangerous ideas, seeding a new personality and muddling up the rest.

 _Ullu ka patha_ – I scowled at his back.

Though it seemed like I'd have to get over the icky, sick feeling myself – because who else could've been there to greet us than Mickey Smith and Jackie Tyler themselves.

"Jackie. Mickey. Blimey! No, no, no, no, hold on. Wait there. I've got something to say. There was something I had to tell you, something important. What was it? No, hold on, hold on. Hold on, shush, shush, shush, shush," The Doctor got up all in their faces – his face morphed into confusion like he was concentrating on discovering the cure to some great disease. Then he smiled, "Oh, I know! Merry Christmas!"

Funny, he had just seemed the picture of health before keeling over, falling flat onto Mickey.

"What happened? Is he all right?" Rose was first out the TARDIS.

"I don't know, he just keeled over. But who is he? Where's the Doctor?" Mickey was eager to reply, almost tripping over himself as he looked at Rose – the first time he probably had in months.

"Don't worry, that's him. That's the Doctor. And yes, we have a good explanation for this," I sighed, clutching my head as it still spun from whiplash.

Properly making my way out after Rose – my eyes doing the slightly stunned thing eyes did when they went from a dark place with artificial light to someplace much brighter – I stared up away from the snowy wonderland we had landed ourselves into and into the faces of what felt like characters I had seen long ago, in what now felt like a dream. I smiled, "Hello, Jackie, Micky."

"It's you!" Jackie shrieked, her face looking a hell of a lot more confused than she had been with just the Doctor. She looked vaguely like she knew me, her words kinda reflecting that. She plastered on a trying smile, "Oh, it was Frannie – no, Frances, wasn't it?"

"'Frances', sure let's go with that," I smiled tightly, repressing the urge to snort, or even just to give up completely and retire to a life of being a hermit, "I'm sure we'll all have time to get acquainted later. Let's just..."

I looked down at the unconscious form of the Doctor, my thoughts turning sad as I realised that this was him – younger than ever – not even yet with the same basis of what I knew he'd grow into eventually. He looked so utterly incomplete – and I suppose it broke my heart a tiny bit.

The Doctor was this great character, of old. I should know, I had been raised watching him face daring-do's and unspeakable evils – knowing that he always intended to be quick, too-smart, and incredibly intimidating.  
But the way he looked now, passed out – completely vulnerable – well, I suppose no amount of anger I felt towards him could've deterred me from caring about his sorry ass.

I sighed deeply. "Let's get him inside."

* * *

Entering the house, one thing was clear.

It smelled too strongly of spice and evergreen – the lingering scents of Jackie's cooking mixing in with the cut bark of their tree. 'Strong' actually felt like an understatement. ' _Way too goddamn strong, holy smokes'? –_ Just a smidge closer to the truth.

But a part of me knew it smelt right, like what home should've smelt like around the holidays.

"Why does it smell like Santa threw up in here?" I asked, flashing Rose a feigned look of disgust. I tried hiding the strain of fatigue in my voice – knowing I was gonna need some proper rest soon.

"What, don't you like Christmas?" Jackie asked, affronted. She really did give off an aura of an ultimate mum – something that made the sight of Christmas a little harder for me to deal with.

"I'm just excited to finally put a sweater on," I replied vaguely, my brain flashing back to the dangerously hot summer drought I had been in no longer than a few days ago. Most of America really wasn't the best if you liked the colder months like I did. I sighed longingly, "The extra big kinds that you could just hide your hands in."

After the Doctor was unsanctimoniously thrown on the bed after having us all haul him up the rickety staircase of the Tyler estate, Jackie took to changing him into the PJ's I remember he'd adorned in the original episode.

I barely managed to avoid crashing on Rose's floor when I plopped down onto the couch with a deep sigh. I was completely beat from my adventure with Eleven – and nervousness I knew was going to make an appearance from having to try and keep Ten safe – well, I knew it was all slowly emptying out my energy reserves. The blonde shop-assistant had shortly followed me, crashing on the couch adjacent to my own. The both of us shared an understanding look – taking in similar sights of bloodshot eyes and slumped shoulders – and chuckling to ourselves despite the situation.

"You alright? You look a bit stressed," Rose smirked at me teasingly, her tongue caught in between her teeth.

I snorted, my eyes dry, " _Haha, yeah_ – it's the stress."

"Tea, then?" She grinned mischievously, her eyes warm. "A good cuppa fixes everything."

"Ah, the British solution to everything. I've been considering making the change from coffee to tea too – I hardly think travelling through space and time is any place to sustain a caffeine addiction," I smiled at her, "Maybe later."

Her youthful face seemed to take on a more solemn look after a few seconds of silence. "Are you worried?"

"Currently yes – about many things," I sighed. There was a lot to consider. First off, and probably the most obvious, were those fugly demon looking aliens – what were they called again? the Stickoracks, Styro-somethings, oh who cares – whom would shortly be forcing each and every human being with type A positive blood onto the roofs of their houses.

I felt my shoulders sag in relief a little, remembering that it was all just a clever little party trick – and that no one would really die. I wasn't in control this time round.

 _But I suppose there were more imminent threats to worry about,_ I thought, eyeing the Christmas tree knowingly.

I looked back at Rose, noticing that her gaze was pointed at the door of the room that held the Doctor. I smiled a bit sadly at her. "Are _you_ worried?"

"He's not the Doctor. He's not the proper Doctor," she replied, voice distracted. Then she turned to me, "I'm just worried tha' you don't care. I thought you n' him were..."

I watched her curiously, feeling suspiciously like this was about to head into spoiler-territory. Slowly, I moved forward to look at her fully. "I'll just have you know now, Rosie, this... this is kinda the first time I've met you. You and the Doctor with how young he is here."

" _First time?"_ Her pretty eyes widened as if in shock. I watched her deflate very slightly, realisation seemingly hitting her. "Oh."

"Oh, don't look so glum, Rose Tyler," I replied, a bit hesitantly if anything. Even with Amy and River, I felt like I had been talking out my arse, not really understanding why they had both gone silent and sorta sad when I told them. I smiled a little at her, deciding to cut the bullshit and just say what I actually felt, "I may still be a bit confused and new to this, but I'm happy to have met you."

She smiled fondly. "Well, I'll have you know – you and me, we're good mates." She scratched the side of her head a bit self-consciously. "Not the best first impression, I guess."

"Not at all, you're doing great," I grinned, already realising I'd like her quite a bit from how easily we were chatting. Then under my breath I mentioned, "It's a step up from you just being some fictional character."

"About that... If you don't mind me askin'..." She began timidly, twiddling the cuffs of her sweater as she peered up at me, "What was it like back in your world? Having a favourite character like 'im?"

"What do you mean?" I asked lazily, concealing a yawn as I sat up to pay closer attention to her.

"Like you told me – An _older_ you told me... The Docta' and other people like 'im and me. You cared about us even though we weren't real," Her eyes were full, making me forget all traces of what was making me tired in the first place. "You told me once that you cried the time we went to see my dad – and other times you couldn't tell me about."

I blinked, my heart swelling up for the girl.

I had said that. A _me_ that wasn't _me_. And oh god, I suppose I did know what I must've been talking about – Rose Tyler and Bad Wolf Bay – her being lost forever.

I needed to stop – she couldn't have known I was sad otherwise she'd pry. Putting up a ruse of looking completely bemused, I took a second to think about what she had asked me in the first place.

"It's must sound weird, I know. It was even considered strange where I'm from. But..." I took a shaky breath, my heart going soft at the memories I had saved from watching this show, "What people didn't realise back home was that, when it comes to fictional characters, they're just as real to us, me and people like me – as real as our friends, lovers, siblings or parents. It doesn't matter that we can't touch them or visit them or engage them in conversation.  
What matters is that they've made an impact on our lives, and that's what makes them real."

Rose looked up – _actually real_ – smiling such a genuine, warm smile at me. "And they all mean something to you?"

I paused, not really wanting to admit to her what once seemed like a harmless little thought – that now seemed like a secret meant only for my own heart to keep hidden.

"Yes," I began, putting all my feelings into the word. My voice trailed off along with my gaze as I realised I could tell Rose the truth of how it actually felt, just being an observer, "...but sometimes, there's that one character. That one character who has nothing, but deserves everything," I spoke reminiscently, like I couldn't even stop myself at this point. "I dunno, they always just strike a chord with me."

"And the Docta', is he like that to you?"

Rose surprised me, stopping me in my tracks.

I thought about it for a second. Then two – and suddenly it felt like someone had suddenly turned on an internal heater inside my system, and my pale skin slowly turned from a ghastly white to the shade of ripe strawberry.

The Doctor – sure he had been my favourite character – I had admitted it myself. But he was real now, wasn't he?

For someone who couldn't even admit to thinking of him as a _friend_ – Well, 'favourite character' and 'favourite person' suddenly began to seem like two very different things.

" _Rose! You and your friend can come in now!"_ I was saved from having to come up with a response that didn't make me sound like a complete ninny, when Jackie called us in from the other room.

Rose hopped up from the bouncy cushioning of the sofa, "Coming, mum!"

Watching as she bounded off into the room with the Doctor, I decided not to follow – already knowing she'd handle the situation without having it come down to taking the Doctor to a hospital. A concept that, if what had happened with Seven was any indicator, he might not have walked away from.

No, instead of following, I watched the flickering tree with its tiers of lights. So what if it was actually a terrorising alien thing that would come alive and try to kill us all later – it still looked pretty.

I felt my breathing constrict, my thoughts turning to memories far away.

I never had this kind of thing before. Or at least, I hadn't had in a very, _very_ long time. Something so perfectly domestic – to be so perfectly comfortable with another.

In the years leading up I began walking on eggshells, every hour of every day, in the days following Christmas. Mum would get temperamental, Jackson would get even more distant – and everything generally felt a lot more lonely as we sat together pretending everything was fine.

It had been the anniversary of the last time any of us had seen my dad, after all.

But the way in which the decorations were catching the light now, made me think of happier times – when I had been so young and unburdened.

I felt my mind flash and suddenly it was 2007 – Christmas Night. The crowning thought being that our tree was ridiculous. It scraped bits of plaster up from the ceiling – looking like it had truly belonged in a forest, instead of dominating over the small living room we had. Even back then, Mum and I never really knew how to do Christmas. We'd find these odd bits and baubles all over the place to hang up – something an outsider could've seen as a bit sad, I supposed.

So why did we use to grin the whole day through? A miny-me almost exploding when mum turned on the fairy lights, my fingers itching to get going with decorating.

Funny how events like these stayed stuck in the mind when so much else didn't. But I'm glad they did, otherwise we'd just be left with the bad memories. Despite everything thing that eventually happened – how it became harder to hold on to good memories as times got sadder – this memory reminded me how we tried, how we did love, despite our faults.

* * *

After Jackie, Rose and Micky left the room – probably to go into the kitchen – I snuck into the room with the alien himself.

I stared down in disdain at the pinstriped pajama wearing lunatic who hadn't given me a seconds worth of a damn break in the past forty-eight hours I'd known him. I drew a breath. Well, 'lunatic' might've been a bit of stretch with the way he looked now.

Sleeping on his back with his hands tucked over themselves – wispy hair falling into his eyes – He definitely looked a lot less crazed when he was asleep.

With a grudging annoyance, I pulled up the old wicker chair Jackie had left next to the Doctor's bedside. As much as I hated it, my eyes strained not to fall to watch his sleeping face.

"Stupid, fast man," I cursed the sleeping alien. I sighed, crossing my arms over the other, "You're really no use to me unconscious, you know?"

 _Positively delightful,_ I thought. The world was hours from falling into a mass panic and here I was talking to the passed-out remains of the only person who could've done anything about it.

I inhaled and exhaled deeply, my thoughts straining as I caught sound of Rose and Jackie having an argument of sorts outside.

"'Rudeness is merely an expression of fear', isn't that what they say?" I crossed my arms, my voice meant only for the Doctor against the commotion that had picked up. Sure he was asleep, but I suppose it was calming talking to him – even more so when he couldn't blither back. "Don't mind what she says. She'll come round."

I leaned back in my chair, my eyes falling shut for what felt like the first time in eons.

"Fiona, dear," It was Jackie's voice that suddenly broke me out of the calm I was trying to achieve. I gave her a look of confusion, as she looked slightly caught out by her knowing of my name, "I know, I know, I'm sorry about that. 'Frances'–" She laughed, "You'd think I've gone senile, especially at my age. Anyway, Rose was just tellin' me in the kitchen about what you've been up to – you know – in space?"

She crossed the room, a trepidation in her step as she took a seat on the bed to look at me properly, "I just want ta' thank you. She says you look out for her. And I know you can't be any older than she is, you're practically a baby, yourself – so thank you."

I looked at her – conflicted on what to say. She was thanking me for something I hadn't even done yet, but how could I let her down after that – What could I say? 'Soz lady, I haven't actually done any of that, bye'?

I knew she wouldn't get it. Hell, _I_ hardly could.

"It's no problem," I swallowed thickly, feeling a gloss beginning to coat my eyes. If this is what it was going to be like – I didn't want it.

I suppose a part of me just felt bitter over the future version of me and whatever heroic thing she could've done to earn such a heart-felt thanks. I coughed, looking around to change the topic, "Where _is_ Rose?"

"Oh, she and Micky've gone out for some Christmas shoppin'," She replied off-handedly, before handing me a cup she had brought in along with her, "Anyway, this is for you."

"Tea?" I felt myself smile despite myself.

She looked at me knowingly, "The best in all of London."

I raised a brow, my voice deadpan as I replied, "I don't doubt that for a second."

"Oh, hush. You're too much like that doctor," She smiled, not offended in the slightest. Then, snapping her fingers, she made to leave, "No offense, but you look exhausted dear. Get some sleep."

I grinned tiredly, considering the option gratefully.

* * *

" _Bad Qismat_ ," I sighed into the chilly air, whole-heartedly agreeing with the words. Unlucky, unfortunate, unhappy.

I had lost myself in idle thoughts, neither sad nor happy – just not being able to get to sleep.

Maybe I _was_ cursed. I wasn't religious, nor did I lean closer to any particular faith, but my grand-mother – as quick as whip as she once was – always believed in old folk stories about evil. Maybe that's what brought me here.

I snorted. Okay, maybe that was stretching it a bit far.

It had gotten to that point where I was almost mentally reliving the days I'd spend back when everything was normal. My days at the shop, creaking open the windows to let the raggedy store breathe – the little rusty radio I owned, buzzing with each little tune it'd play.

Too tired to think, I absent-mindedly began singing softly along to one of the more frequent songs I'd hear from the busted music-box.

" _I'm a phoenix in the water  
A fish that's learned to fly  
And I've always been a daughter  
But feathers are meant for the sky  
And so I'm wishing, wishing further  
For the excitement to arrive  
It's just I'd rather be causing the chaos  
Than laying at the sharp end of this knife._

 _With every small disaster_  
 _I'll let the waters still_  
 _Take me away to some place real._

 _'Cause they say home is where your heart is set in stone_  
 _Is where you go when you're alone_  
 _Is where you go to rest your bones_  
 _It's not just where you lay your head_  
 _It's not just where you make your bed_  
 _As long as we're together, does it matter where we go?_  
 _Home, home, home, home."_

In the minutes that came, I found that I had resorted to a soft singing to stave off boredom. Perhaps it was instinctive, singing to someone as you sat by their bedside – like mothers knew to do to soothe their babies. Or perhaps even just to lull myself to sleep.

My voice wasn't too grating on the ears as I sang, but it wasn't anything close to Mariah either. Instead, I found that it matched the rest of me – annoyingly delicate.

 _God, the amount of times I wished I had a voice fit for the strongest power ballads, with the strength to belt out entire musical numbers...I'd be on that Broadway train in seconds._

Rose and Micky still weren't back, Jackie on the phone outside, leaving me with the unfortunate end of staying stuck to the Doctors side to make sure he didn't just stop breathing.

There was still the opposing side of the bed he slept on, empty and appealingly cushioned – but there was no way in all seven hells I'd be that blasé about personal space, especially when it came to sharing rooms with a stranger.

 _Practically a stranger,_ my mind taunted. _Yeah, not like haven't shared a bed already – that would be so incredibly difficult to see coming._

Great, even my thoughts were turning against me now – harkening back to when we shared a bed in 'ye old England'. Instead of blushing like a school-girl and looking away bashfully, I poked back at the thought with equal fervour.

I directed a facetious little smile at the voice in my head. _Yeah well, I wasn't exactly in the correct state of mind then – still thought this was a dream, remember?_

My mind strayed back to the song, thinking a bit about the words. A terrible decision really, because soon I felt my insides go a bit queezy. The words talked about leaving home for the idea of an adventure – something that seemed so entirely different to where I was now.

Feeling a bit sick with myself, I stopped singing.

I jumped when, the very second after I had stopped, the Doctor let out a grunt – his face contorted up into a pained grimace. I hopped up, my face a stock-photo image of concern.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" I asked the unconscious body in a state of panic. I only felt myself calm down when I saw the familiar mist of golden energy leave his mouth – feeling a bit stupid because duh – that was supposed to happen. I leaned back in my chair, rolling my eyes at myself. "Of course he's not. He's in an actual regenerative coma and I'm just talking to myself."

Coincidentally enough, the sight of the puff of light allowed my mind to wander back to where I had just been previous – before another whole whirlwind of things began to unfold here with the Tyler's.

My mind flashed suddenly to something I had seen – after Amelia, after Eleven, after Eleven from the future, after Bob coming to find me – _the light._

" _Oh."_ I gulped, sitting up straight like a bottle rocket.

 _That's when it hit me like a softball to the head. An epiphany of sorts._

I tried, so, so impossibly hard to scrounge together all the information I needed – trying to make sense of it, because of course – everyone and their nan knew 'Doctor Who' could be a completed train wreck of a show to try and understand at times.

The light. The light from the crack at the end of the universe. I had seen it with Rory – I had seen it with the Clerics in the show (although hopefully not here, because I really was betting on Bob to have saved them). It took people from their spots in time and threw them around to land in different parts of history – or throwing them back to the spots where they seemingly belonged. I had seen it in the big bang – after the Doctor 'died' – everything that should've been, going back to where it should've been.

Was I so foolish to have only just realised that I could've been 'fixed' that way too?

Oh I could've screamed. I felt like it – wanting to tell the whole world. But a part of me knew I'd have to keep this secret. It was for my ears and my ears alone.

That's when my mind strayed back to the Doctor. Going back would mean leaving all this.

I looked down at the sleeping man sadly.

 _"I'm sorry, but for as long as I stay here with you, I'm always going to be looking for a way back"_ – that's what I had said to him, an older him – the two of us sitting in the TARDIS corridors.

" _Then stay,"_ – That's what he had said not any longer than an hour ago. He made it all seem very much like a choice, but I knew it wasn't the type where anyone would end up completely happy.

It was him or my family.

"If you were me, you'd do the same you know?" I breathed out into the open air, almost like I could see the words leave my mouth and dissipate forever – the Doctor staying completely oblivious to the inner workings of my mind. I looked at him, feeling the facade finally crack. I felt my face crumple slightly, feeling the exhaustion of all this emotional weight finally creep up on me. "If you had someone you... loved. Just waiting on you to get back to them – then you'd understand."

I waited a second, almost like I expected him to reply. Exhaling softly when he didn't, I looked back at the ceiling.

"Maybe if we had met differently," I spoke soft, "Maybe that, instead of snatching me off from home – if you met me like you would any one of your companions. If I actually chose to get on the TARDIS – the normal way."

I felt slightly bitter – because I'd know, better than most, than there was no point in dwelling on maybe's.

Now, I supposed it was only a matter of time. Waiting until the odd light finally decided to take me back to Eleven – up to where he'd meet the Pandorica.

Despite the sudden pang of guilt I felt, I felt slightly better knowing that if what happened was supposed to play out the way it had in the episode – there's nothing I could've even done to stop what was coming.

* * *

 _A light flashed brightly, suddenly._

 _My eyelids fluttered open. When had I even shut them?_

 _I heard rustling and looked up._

 _I was in the TARDIS. In the console room – only that it was Eleven's version, the lights looking spindly and disorienting._

 _That, and the fact that I wasn't alone._

" _Idris?" I called out in complete shock._

 _There she stood – the embodiment of the TARDIS herself – looking so deceptively human for the look she wore on her face._

" _My dear," she smiled oddly, warmly._

 _Something caught between a smile and disbelief, I choked out, "How are you- where am I? How can I see you like this?"_

 _Idris had died, the TARDIS explicitly saying to the Doctor that she'd never be able to speak to him again. Not how she currently was to me._

" _You're dreaming, little one," She tittered, her grey dress blurred to my eyes – almost like she was a floating spirit. She smiled knowingly. "And you've always been able to see things a little more clearly, haven't you?"_

" _Why am I here, Idris?" I felt my eyebrows screw up. Did she know of the plans I had been considering, mere seconds before I must've fallen asleep?_

 _I didn't care that I thought of her fondly – that she had stayed somewhat of a friend to me in the time I hid out aboard her deck. If she tried to discourage me in any way – I wasn't going to listen._

" _Why shouldn't you be?" She looked around the space like she missed something. "Thought you'd like a chat."_

" _Alright then, let me ask a little differently then," I held myself back – looking at her with a calculating cool, despite the fact that she looked as harmless as an aimless little bee. "Why am I_ _ **here**_ _, Idris?"_

" _Why is anyone anywhere?" She questioned rather poetically into the great open space. Something about the way she smiled after that though, telling me she knew what I meant – wanting to know why I was in this fictional land in the first place._

" _Perhaps the universe liked the idea of you here, with me and our thief."_

 _I felt my heart sink a little, starting to follow her as she twirled weightlessly around the TARDIS console – almost like she was literally running away from the questions I felt only she could answer. "But I had a life. A family!"_

" _Had?" She stopped moving, turning around to look at me dubiously – just a hair's breadth away from me._

 _I gave her a look as hard as steel. "_ _ **Have**_ _."_

" _I don't see why you're complaining. You were miserable," She almost looked down at me. Although, it was odd to see that she didn't regard me as normal human would – she seemed almost like she was just stating facts, no personal bias seen._

 _I felt my hard look give way – a desperate sob make its way up my throat. "I was not miserable. Often days I'd come home bone-dead tired and weary, and sure I'd get sad sometimes – but I was not miserable."_

" _Yes, but isn't this the better alternative?" She asked, genuinely curious._

" _No. No it isn't," I shook my head in denial – my ears feeling quite shut. "I just need to wait it out. The Pandorica. The crack in time – it'll send me back."_

" _Time won't- No, can't! Can't send you home," She tsked, rambling like the Doctor would. "Damn tenses."_

" _Can't or Won't?" I looked at her fully, a tiny bubble of hope saying I had caught her out. "Because there's a very fine line that makes those things insanely different!"_

 _She just gave me a sad look, perching herself onto the console. "Won't you give him a chance? He cares for you so."_

" _Cares for me?" I felt my brows hit my hairline. I didn't know what to think about that._

 _She just smiled – like she had a secret she had no interest in sharing._

" _Idris, please," I pleaded, a desperate hand clutching onto the trail of her long skirt. I sunk to my knees, skin hitting glass. I just wanted a solution. I suppose it was pathetic – cowardly – but I just wanted someone to take me by the shoulders and say what it was I could've done._

 _Not knowing was scary, after all. And I felt like I hadn't an ounce of bravery left._

 _I almost flinched when I saw her get on the floor with me – her knees crossed as if she were a toddler._

" _Don't hold your head so low, dear heart," She tapped my chin, an affectionate glitter in her eyes. "Courage is contagious. When a brave man takes a stand, the spines of others are often stiffened – their hearts enlightened. Learn from him."_

 _Her face had melted, like she so very fond of something to do with me. Then, as if she had gained an air of foreboding, her expression turned serious. "I plan to show you a series of... dreams, I suppose you could call them. Whether they are things you need to see, or things you want to see, I believe that'll be up to you."_

 _I was about to ask what she meant and why she was doing this, my lips stuck on a question. However, almost like she could read my face, she answered for me._

" _It's to make you see, small one. For you to decide where your heart belongs without me forcing it through your eyes. In the end of it all, if you still wish to leave..." She hesitated, before she smiled knowingly, "Well we'll have to see about that, won't we?"_

" _You're not making any sense," I started, but then this feeling began to creep up my spine, higher and higher until I felt myself beginning to fall. I felt the fabric of her skirt in my hand begin to evaporate, like steam you couldn't catch._

" _Idris, please! What did you mean?"_

" _Sweet dreams," I heard her voice in my ear, the surroundings of the room beginning to fade until there was nothing but darkness left. "But if my calculations are correct – and they're never wrong – you won't be getting much."_

* * *

I shot up straight at the sound someone almost ripping the door off its hinges and throwing it back.

"No, leave him. Just leave him! Get the girl and run!"

Jackie's voice, I think, was blaring through the grogginess over my ears. I briefly registered the conversation I had with Idris, my head hurting when I realised I had a whole new issue to worry about that'd have to be thought about later. For now, it looked like matters of life-and-death seemed the more thing to fret over.

Just as I started to gain a notion on what was happening – something along the lines of 'killer tree' – Rose, Jackie, and Micky had rushed into the room, shuffling to the end of the room where my stool was seated.

"Doctor, wake up!" Rose cried from over my shoulder, her voice frustrated. "Fiona, wake him up!"

" _Me?"_ I shouted back, alarmed. No, that wouldn't work. The only reason he'd ever get up in the first place was for her – the girl he loved but didn't know yet – calling for him to help. Sure I was sitting closer to him and that made sense why Rose wanted me to try, but still, I had no power in the slightest over him.

We all shrieked in terror as the fern ends of a large spinning object began working itself closer and closer to the door.

"Oh, damn it all to hell!" I growled angrily, getting on my knees to reach the sonic the Doctor had tucked hidden inside his Jacket pocket. Who cared if I wasn't Rose Tyler – I was all that was left, I thought, taking note of Rose hugging her scared mum from behind me.

"I'm going to get killed by a Christmas tree!" Jackie screamed as the tree tore through the door.

Wasting no time with theatrics, I bent down to where my hair was partially draped over the Doctor's sleeping face. I placed the sonic in his hand, ready to try and rouse him from his coma.

 _Oh good grief, I really hope this works._

"If you're all good and rested now – we really need you," I sighed softly, a part of me diffidently giving in. I drew a small breath.

"I need you."

A second flashed where the Doctor didn't move and my eyes fell shut. I registered my heart actually feeling like someone had stabbed into it, the beating having gone completely too erratic.

 _I failed. I just sealed the deal to the deaths of four innocent people, including myself._

 _I was going to die in a place, in a world, that didn't know my name. Alone and so far away from home – just because the Doctor didn't care whether I lived or died._

But that was when something extraordinary happened.

A flash of wind feathered past me, familiar sounds of buzzing lighting up in the air. And then an explosion.

 _Oh, if what I thought was happening was indeed happening – it better had been._

I opened my eyes, my jaw going slack at the sight of the Doctor sitting up, his screwdriver aimed at the burning remnants of the tree that had very nearly killed us.

"Remote control. _But who's controlling it?"_

That's all the alien said before he was ten steps out the door. I stared after him – too many questions swirling around in my head. It then took us all a hot second, but soon enough – we had joined the Doctor on the terrace outside.

There he stood, everything about him dripping with power and authority as he pointed the sonic menacingly at the three pilot-fish– completely in spite of the fact that he had a frilly dressing gown on.

"That's them. What are they?" Micky asked loudly as they backed up and beamed away, only to be sharply hushed by Rose. He didn't seem to be in the mood for listening though, because there he was replying to himself after the pilot fish beamed away. "They've just gone. What kind of rubbish were they? I mean, no offence, but they're not much cop if a sonic screwdriver's going to scare them off."

"Pilot fish," The Doctor spoke mysteriously, his voice surprisingly even compared to the drawling cackles I had heard from him on the TARDIS.

"What?" Rose asked, confused, from beside me.

He turned around, his face stoic as he made eye contact with the four of us – his eyes briefly landing on each of our faces. "They were just pilot fish."

He groaned, once, before doubling over in pain. Like I'd done so many times in the past when Jackson was a baby – crawling to every high place he could get to – I dropped forward to stop the Doctor from hitting the floor, the lot of us all huddling around to make sure he didn't fall off the ledge.

"Are you alright?" I grunted, struggling to hold him up as he draped a heavy arm over my shoulders, his hand clutching at my shoulder tightly. Jackie quickly rushed to his other side to help me support his body weight – seemingly picking up on the fact that I was way too small to do it on my own.

"You woke me up too soon. I'm still regenerating. I'm bursting with energy," The Doctor looked down at me, extremely worried, before he stilled. Like he was wrestling with a hairball, he eventually ended up breathing out another wisp of golden energy. " _You see?_ The pilot fish could smell it a million miles away. So they eliminate the defence, that's you lot, and they carry me off. They could run their batteries on me for a couple of - ow!"

He jumped, curling in on himself. I watched him, worried to death, a part of me wanting to pull away entirely because of how out of my depth I was. Like a complete coward, I wanted to hand him off to Rose and stand watch – watching like the observer I felt I was.

"My head! I'm having a neuron implosion. I need –" The Doctor tried, struggling on the words.

"What do you need?" Jackie cajoled him for an answer.

"I need –"

Wide-eyed, Jackie interrupted him again. "Say it. Tell me, tell me, tell me."

"I need –"

"Painkillers?" She suggested.

"I need –"

"Do you need aspirin?"

"I need –"

"Codeine? Paracetamol? Oh, I don't know, Pepto-Bismol?"

"I need –"

"Liquid paraffin. Vitamin C? Vitamin D? Vitamin E?"

"I need –"

"Is it food? Something simple. Bowl of soup. A nice bowl of soup? Soup and a sandwich? Soup and a little ham sandwich?

"I need you to shut up," he exploded, so far gone from the normal wheel of emotion when it came to exasperation.

"Rude and not ginger," I whispered under my breath with a role of the eyes.

"Oh, he hasn't changed that much, has he?" Jackie snapped, looking to the rest of us like she was disappointed.

The Doctor kept stressing, "We haven't got much time. If there's pilot fish, then. Why's there an apple in my dressing gown?"

"Oh, that's Howard. Sorry."

"He keeps apples in his dressing gown?" He questioned with a genuine confusion on his face.

"Doctor, _time_ ," I warned. Even though I was thoroughly enjoying the scene playing out, I wanted him to relay anything he could to us – just in case something went wrong.

He was about to reply, his eyes finding mine again – before he threw himself down in another fit.

"Argh! Brain collapsing. The pilot fish," He stuttered, his hands starting aimlessly, like he was trying to grab hold of something. I was thrown for a loop when he grabbed onto my shoulders, looking me dead in the eyes, his own so very mad and alarmed, "The pilot fish mean that something– something– something,"

"I know, I know what's coming," I panicked, feeling like I was going to start hyperventilating just looking at the panic on his face. What should I have said to him to make it known I couldn't have done anything? That fate would play out as it should have and that he'd save the day in the end?

I looked at him, trying to school my features into something even remotely believable. Feeling quite like I was lying through my teeth, I said the first thing that came to mind. "I-I'll take care of them – for whatever that's worth."

He made a noise – something caught between a grunt of pain and a laugh – then, with his lips curled like he was trying so very hardly to hold onto his words, I watched as his eyes slipped back into his skull – unconscious once again.

* * *

In a blur of action that soon followed, with Jackie making sure the door was securely shut behind us, we had moved him inside once again.

There, sitting on the bed, Rose worriedly mopped his brow while I stood just as concerned from the corner of the room, my arms crossed.

"He's worse. Just one heart beating," Rose looked to me, her eyebrows furrowed. I shifted uncomfortably at that, inwardly struggling with what to do. I knew that the solution was the fumes from Jackie's tea – but I also knew I couldn't get any to him now. That we needed to wait until we were in the TARDIS at morning.

"Yeah, normally you'd just hit him in the chest and he'd be up and running," I thought of his time with Martha in Shakespeare's company – a point of the adventure I left too early to see. I smiled despite myself. "But now... best not."

Mickey had taken to the phone, and I knew that the company would just start getting into uncovering information about the Pilot fish and the Syca-whatever-they-were-called's – information I already knew about.

"Hey Rose, could I use your shower?" I asked abruptly.

What could I say? This was all getting a bit too much – and I suppose it didn't hurt to have a chance to wash all this cave-dust off of me.

"Yeah, course," She sighed tiredly, "You can use my room. It's the door over."

Thanking her, I moved out the room – my eyes leaving the Doctor's face last.

* * *

Rose's bathroom, surprisingly, did not smell like roses.

In fact, it smelt a bit bubble-gummy – not enough to make you sick, but enough to remind you that she was indeed, quite young. The scent being exactly like that perfume teenage girls everywhere used when they were around twelve. I smiled. Very fitting for Rose Tyler, I thought.

In the shower I allowed myself to mull over the dream in which the show's leading time machine herself, decided to make an appearance in. Her words were confusing – to put into terms lightly. But the way in which I saw her, she apparently cared for me – the affection almost sisterly.

Still, what would I have known about that? All I knew was that her words fuelled the little theory I'd been working with – her demeanour making it seem as though she wouldn't stop me when the time came. And about the 'dreams' she mentioned... _well, I'd just have to wait and see what came of those._

Having borrowed some cotton bandages and antiseptic from Jackie – I took to changing the bandages on my leg – having a small amount of knowledge on basic first aid from those mandatory classes they'd make you do in school. The cut was decently clean now – not looking at all like the red, bleeding welt I had caught glimpses off when River had taken to patching me up. Instead, marked as a thin stripe going from my ankle to just below the side of my knee – it looked to be getting better already, even though it'd definitely scar.

When I was done with that, a curious tick made me want to get up and judge how badly changed my face felt – as though it actually _had_ changed in the past few days.

I looked in the mirror and grimaced. Ugh, I must be having one of those unattractive days.

 _Did I think days, oh – I meant years._

Alright, I'll admit I was exaggerating, it wasn't as if I looked like the grudge – in fact, I looked a tiny smidge healthier than what I seemed used to. A faint redness dusted my cheeks, my eyes a lot more awake despite the fact I hadn't had a proper nights rest in what felt like a millennia.

What the mirror also forced me to notice though, were the markings along my ribcage – half forgotten due to the fact that I hardly ever looked at myself like this. Crudely tattooed coordinates sat atop my skin – the ink still fresh. I had gotten it done the day I turned eighteen – having snuck out one night to the parlour a couple blocks down. It was a rush of adrenaline that got me these, I understood – but even now, I supposed I never would regret them.

The coordinates _'_ **34.8762° N, 73.6934°E'** emblazoned the skin along my waist. They were coordinates to the great Lake – _Saiful Muluk_.

The Lake had been a huge bowl shaped dent in the rocky land – almost like a giant asteroid had created the space, leaving the heavy blankets of snow space to melt and form a river. My mother had grown up close to the lake, in a small town off the beaten track – only moving to a bigger city further inland when she had me.

Trust me when I say that it was very 'The Sound of Music' – green hills alive as the wind almost danced with your hair – I knew from when she'd take me there in the summer. Those massive stooped mountains – us kids would run there barefoot, up through fields where every couple of years, the buttercups and honeysuckle would bloom.

The place was incredibly important to me – perhaps that's why I got this silly little tattoo done.

I frowned, my mind dredging up an old memory – long forgotten – but somehow stored deep in memory.

There was this story – an old fable my mum used to tell me about the lake. That the place was named after a legendary prince who fell in love with a star.

It began with the prince having dreams of a woman with crystal eyes, waking up in hot flashes, only to long more for a chance to meet whoever she was. He had told his father about the dreams only to immediately be discouraged. The prince was human and the girl was not of this world, his father scolded him, they could never be together. But one late winter's night, the prince snuck out from his home, climbing the narrow slopes towards the lake – an odd pull in his heart telling him that he needed to be there. When he got there, ground laden in snow but with the lake still unfrozen, he watched in awe as a beam of light descended from the sky – landing in the centre of the lake. A new patch of thick ice, having grown instantaneously in the direct centre of the lake by the beam, now harboured a pale woman. The woman, _the star_ , would then begin to bathe with the freezing cold water of the lake – the prince astounded because he had finally found what destiny had seemingly been trying to bring to him.

There was more to the story than that – more than I could remember. However, one distinct thought rang true – the story didn't have a happy end.

There was something about the memory that unlocked a glimpse into the past though – to when I was no older than five, my mother reciting the story to me in her native Urdu tongue. We'd sit by the fireplace in my room, with her often brushing my hair as she told me story after story.

I laughed. A silly little snort at first – because of what a simple thought, a simple memory, that was.

Before I even knew why, the next laugh turned into a soft sigh.

The sigh was resigned and weary – I felt it reflected in my bones. To me, it might've signalled the end of deliberate effort and the beginning of passive deterioration. It was a sigh so quiet that it could've easily gone unnoticed out there in the Tyler's flat, with how loud it all was. It would have dissipated out into the vastness of the world and made no effect at all.

It was in that bathroom though, that the sound felt like it could've shattered my ears – leaving me empty as it left for good.

The next sigh turned into a sob.

The tears didn't burst from my eyes – not like water from a dam, spilling down my face. I didn't scream and pound and wail, nor did I make any sound louder than what a cat might've done sniffling. Not like I had done on the TARDIS.

The tears came like a faucet had gone leaky and you couldn't have done a thing to fix it. I felt the muscles in my chin tremble like a small child. Moment by moment, they kept falling. Salty drops from my chin, drenching my shirt.

 _I can't._ _I can't stop_. Even as I pressed my hand against the wall it shook, it trembled. It was raw, everything, raw tears, raw emotions. _I can't stop. I can't stop. Why can I not stop crying?_

I felt like I was missing a part of myself – not a single person around who cared enough to listen. _She_ would've listened.

 _To think, even at eighteen years, I was just a scared little girl crying for my mum._

A harsh knock forced me to take in a sharp intake of breath, stilling all noise in the room, _"Ona, I left_ _some clothes on the bed for you!"_

"Yeah, thanks," I tried.

" _Make sure you brush your teeth before you come in for tea."_

I took a second to stabilize my voice, but I felt my mouth draw back into a wry, watery grin, "Who are you, my mom?"

I heard Rose giggle despite her obvious fatigue, a sweet sound that filled up the air, before she was gone again.

I got up, looking at myself in the mirror and frowning. I never _had_ learned to cry with style.

I didn't have the pearl-shaped tears rolling down my cheeks from wide luminous eyes, like on the covers of those terribly obtuse young-adult novels.

I wished I had though. Then maybe I could have done it in front of people, growing up, instead of in bathrooms, darkened movie theatres, in shrubberies and empty bedrooms. Like the epitome of sad teen stereotype.

Creaking open the door to observe the space of the room before I came out, I caught sight of the clothes Rosie had left for me. I felt my lips lift and my eyes warm into a smile – regretting the fact that I ever once thought the Tyler's weren't thoughtful.

Because sitting on the bed was a large, extra-warm looking sweater. Just like the kind I had mentioned – when I thought no one was listening.

* * *

 _ **. Ullu ka patha –**_ **means fool, but is literally translated into son of an owl (because apparently that's insulting. Jk, I'd be pretty insulted).**

 _ **. Bad Qismat**_ **– means 'a generally unfortunate/unlucky person'.**

* * *

 **A/N: Hyello people, welcome back. I'm so fricken sorry to end the chapter here. I was initially planning to make it a one-off and then giving Fiona to chill out and talk to the Doctor properly for once – but I didn't intend on making it so long, so I had to cut it up unfortunately.**

 **But I guess this is good news, since I'll most probs have the next chapter up super soon.**

 **Ok, to a address a couple things – starting with the story based on the place she grew up and the 'Lake Saiful Maluk' – this is an actual place in Pakistan that I've visited (look it up btw, it's so stunning) with the story of it being named after a prince and a 'star' or a 'fairy' being real as well. The actual story is quite long, which prompted me to change it ever so slightly – but getting to the main point – i've decided that nothing in this story can go by 100% without meaning, and that maybe this mini-story ties into symbolism revolving around the main story? Idk, you tell me if you like this idea – because I do honestly have things planned for the 'dreams' the TARDIS foreshadowed about (very Ebenezer Scrooge, I thought).**

 **Argh, I absolutely can't wait for the next two chapters – because I've already written most of it and am so excited to write a chapter that doesn't just take from the original episodes (which will come in two chapters worth of time) – while still being super important to the story.**

 **Also, before I forget, the song included is just this random little tune I happened to stumble upon – that somehow perfectly describes how Fiona must've felt at the start of the story? I initially heard a cover version though – sung by Dodie Clark,** **Melanie Baker, and Zannah – which is super good (go check it out if that's your kind of thing).**

* * *

 **Anyway, as always, don't forget to leave a review as I do enjoy reading them oh so much – always replying where I can, so here's some of that -**

 **I wanna thank** **beebo-esque** **(love your name btw! I'm hoping that's Brendon),** **lautaro94** **(friend, I am trying so hard to catch up to all the episodes of old who – but really, I gaurentee I'll get the seventh doctor in there somewhere – thanks), and** **V** **, for your super heart-warming comments. Thanks guys!**

 **Also** **Eirafae** **– I love, love your comments, friend – they never fail to make me smile. I'm so happy you think the OC's a well-rounded character (even though I've been trying to lay off too much mental story-telling and engage more with the episode). Also, the sadistic inner workings of my brain loved that you fell victim to the dreaded cliff-hanger (always hate those myself).**

 **Another thanks to** **Sam** **for reviewing again – ooh, I love your suggestion about 13 and making it a short (even though she appeared for a brief snippet in the first chapter). I'm not sure whether I'll get to do that soon tho, which is sad, since the path I'm following right now has reasons for why she can't teleport any further than the Eleventh Doctor (hint hint, nudge nudge – maybe it's the Pandorica?) – but I really am itching to introduce her and the Twelfth Doctor in the late future (don't worry, since I hope to make this story go on for a bit).**

 **Oh and thank you to** **S02blom** **– Happy belated Easter to you too! I'm so happy you love this story as much as you do. I really appreciated the snippet of 'btw don't forget to let her break-down' because I honestly might've forgotten if you hadn't reminded me – even though a small part of me hates that this chapter made it seem like she might've had more stress put on her because of Idris and the whole shebang.  
Now, **_**that**_ **is something I promise will be resolved, or at least lessened in the next two chapters, as she finally gets a long chance to just talk to the Doctor and de-stress.**

 **Thanks for reading along as always guys.**


	11. Chapter 11 - The World's Longest Night

**Will We Meet Again?**

 **Chapter 11 – The World's Longest Night**

* * *

 _ **Entry no. 9**_

 _Selcouth_

 _(adj.) unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvellous._

 _I was beginning to find that he was all those things. God only hoped I'd get a day in without him having to shove it down my throat._

 _But still, it was undeniable._

* * *

I slept surprisingly well in spite of the world almost ending tomorrow.

Understandable though – for me being up two days past my bed-time, and all.

I woke feeling cleaner and a lot comfier than I had in a while – the Tyler's' house, keeping any traces of the cold locked away outside. It felt slightly foreign staying in a stranger's house, but I knew I couldn't just have trolloped back to the TARDIS with how possibly dangerous it could've been out there.

My little episode in the bathroom had worn me down completely, and besides, the warmth of the fireplace was plenty for me to take a seat on one of the many sofas and call it a night.

I had fallen asleep anxious still – worried about the so called 'dreams' the TARDIS had warned me about. Though, she must've been bluffing because I didn't see anything remotely weird in the dream I had. Other than something involving a sloth doing my nails, who surprisingly kept telling me I should invest in the stock market. It was weird – but not anything all that close to the philosophical words Idris had shared with me.

" _Sandra!"_

A voice – Rosie's voice – roused me from my thoughts, my immediate instinct being to make a low, frustrated noise as I practically dragged myself of the funny-looking, cushy sofa. They looked so much like a grandma had bought them – cheesy floral patterns and frilly-ly designed cushions. Not that I'd be telling Jackie of that fact anytime soon, for obvious reasons.

Hopping off to find the door wide open, I walked out onto the open terrace without my shoes on (those boots practically took an hour to lace up anyway). Having to shield my eyes from the sudden assuage of blinding sunlight, my first view of the morning scene was met by none other than the sight of marching bodies, climbing up each building from every staircase, ladder and stoop they could get their hands on.

"Ah, fantastic," I sighed under my breath, tone drier than the Atacama Desert. I looked over the zombie-like people with mounting concern. _It's ok, it was a bluff – no one would get hurt,_ I reminded myself. "Everything better go to plan, otherwise I'd be making special care the Doctor stayed in a coma for longer than intended."

Quite suddenly, I caught sight of Mickey and Rose descending one of the black metal ladders, both their faces equally freaked out.

" _Fiona!"_ Rose suddenly caught hold of me by the hand, rushed, her eyes meeting mine like she was looking for a solution. "What're we gonna do?"

 _Yikes_ , why was she coming to me like I had all the answers? It was probably because she knew I had all the answers. Still, telling was a no-no, if what I'd been doing so far was correct.

"We're gonna do what people always do," I started, placing my hand over hers calmingly.

I didn't necessarily agree with what I was about to tell her – mainly since I was all up for seeing the human race defend themselves for a change. But the last time I'd checked – unfortunately, I wasn't equipped to swordfight an alien warrior for rights to the planet, and neither were the only other humans I could rely on right now.

I sighed. "We're gonna have to wait for the Doctor."

"You're kidding. 'Ave you even looked at him?" She began, tearing her hand away, like all the hope was draining away from her. "The Doctor isn't really the Doctor and 'sides, it's not like he can do anything the way he is."

"He may surprise you yet," I tried, smiling at her like I was trying to get her to see some light. I really wished that I could take her mind off of it – make her see it would all be fine in the end. _But gods knew what telling would change,_ I considered – so I kept my mouth shut.

"Nah. There's no one then," Rose let out, voice a bit hollow. "If the Doctor's gone, and you won't do anything – then there's no one to save us. Not anyone."

She ran back inside the flat, her eyes frozen over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing them of their usual warmth. I gazed into the open doorway sadly, like I had just let down someone important to me. But that was absurd, I'd just met her. _God, I was even more sensitive than I'd thought._

"Come on," Micky patted my shoulder along, his own etched in worry – whether it was over Rose or the whole 'crisis', I didn't know. Nonetheless, it was no less sympathetic.

"Thanks, Mick," I breathed, before making my way back in – stopping by the Doctor's doorway, unable to join Rose just yet. The guy – Mickey – was holding in his stress a lot better than his sorta-girlfriend-person, making me worry whether he was alright too, despite the fact we hadn't really talked yet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I may take a moment during this terrible time. It's hardly the Queen's speech. I'm afraid that's been cancelled. Did we ask about the royal family? Oh. They're on the roof," A static-y voice was narrating from inside the lounge, the T.V I guessed.  
"But, ladies and gentlemen, this crisis is unique, and I'm afraid to say, it might get much worse. I would ask you all to remain calm. But I have one request. Doctor, if you're out there, we need you. I don't know what to do. If you can hear me, Doctor. If anyone knows the Doctor, if anyone can find him, the situation has never been more desperate. Help us. Please, Doctor. Help us. God help us."

That was all the voice said before I heard Rose choke on a sob.

" _The Doctor's gone, mum._ He's gone and _she_ doesn' even know me. It's like they've left me, mum. _What if they've left me here for good?"_

I felt my heart constrict at her words. She cared enough, _about me_ , to have gone and felt like that. Now I suppose I fully understood what the Doctor had meant about the risks of messing with fixed time – because I knew Rose was the sort who'd go onto care about the Doctor more than anyone. More than her own mum even.

And damn it if I didn't go the slightest bit soft to know she actually cared a hoot about unimportant, old me.

I looked back into the Doctor's room – watching his unchanging face. Did he have any idea how fast the world could go to shit because he wasn't around? It was hard to tell when he wasn't moving a muscle.

That's all the chance I had to think about before a deep rumble beneath my feet made the room feel like it was spinning. The ear-numbing shattering of glass – thousands of windows around the country imploding all at once – was soon to follow.

"Get down!" I managed, ducking to the floor – hearing the shrill, frightened screams of the women, and maybe Micky too, coming from the lounge. I grunted, sitting up, unscathed from any glass fragments on the floor around me. "Sonic wave... I believe was the term for that."

"No one gives a toss about the term, come on!" was all I heard from who knows who before I was partly snatched off the ground by Rose, all of us making our way to the empty street outside.

Looking up to the sky, like an eclipse a giant rock-looking ship, ominously descended over the sky. The Sycorax would be making an appearance soon enough.

" _Sycorax!"_ I abruptly yelled out into the empty street, undoubtedly looking thoroughly pleased with myself for remembering. "So that's what those buggers are called."

Rose just shot me a look, spiritually seeming to say 'I could've told you that, you boiled egg.'

* * *

The next few instances flew past like sand slipping quickly through your fingers.

We had rushed back inside, everyone in a panic except me really. Rose had immediately taken charge of the sitch. It seemed as though she'd gotten over her frustration over the fact I wasn't doing anything – like it was commonplace to her. But also like she wasn't the type of person who could stay mad at you for a long time.

She had rushed to the Doctor's side, ushering me with her to help. Once we'd propped up the doctor, one arm held up by each of us, we made to getting him into the TARDIS.

An honestly good plan, if I was being honest. If it was enough to keep out a fleet of Daleks, it was good enough for us.

Making sure I had shouted a remembrance note over my shoulder to Jackie about the tea, earning me a confused look from Rose and Micky, we dragged the alien down the stairs. _He must weigh a brick's worth less than me_ , I thought wryly – thin as a matchstick, he was.

As I struggled with one of his lanky arms, inwardly I took a second to mentally prepare myself for things to come – knowing that there could still be the chance things went horribly awry.

" _Mum, will you just leave that stuff and give us a hand?_ " Rose shouted over the tops of her lungs, struggling with the weight of the Doctor's other arm – Mickey on leg duty.

"No leave her," I wrestled with my end of the load, one of the Doctor's massive hands swinging back limply, annoyingly thwacking me in the face. If Rose did indeed tell her mum to stop, we might leave behind the most essential part to this whole damn thing. "We've got it. I mean, how many more than 3 people do you really need to carry someone? He weighs less than a toothpick anyway."

Making a loud exasperated noise, she seemingly gave in – while Mickey, of course, snorted – making his adverse feelings about the Doctor apparent.

One way or another, we managed to haul the Doctor's dead weight into the safe confines of the TARDIS. Even with the new guard of security making itself known, I didn't let myself relax. Instead – waiting promptly for Jackie to return – I sat cross-legged, close to the unconscious Time-Lord.

Feeling someone's eyes on me, I looked back at Mickey and Rose who were watching me, both curiously and expectantly.

"Well? Any chance you're going to fly this thing out of here today?" Rose asked, voice caught between a laugh and surprise.

"Me? Fly this thing?" I laughed, mimicking Rosie's tone. That's when I took a second, remembering what a certain poofy-haired blonde had said to me a mere day ago. Under my breath, I whistled slowly, _"Damn, I guess Mel really wasn't lying_."

Seeing their confusion grow, I tried for something to let them down. "I'm sorry, Rose. I told you I was... fairly new at this," I looked to her like I was breaking in some bad news. "I haven't the faintest clue how to fly her."

"So, what do we do then? Just sit here?" Mickey sighed, the pair both disappointed.

"That's as good as it gets," Rose told him rather glumly, leaning against the console.

That's when, like an actual Goddess, Jackie broke in through the door – a silvery flask in her hands.

"Right, here we go. Nice cup of tea."

"Mmm, the solution to everything," Rose snickered.

"Now, stop your moaning" Jackie waved her hand at Rose's tantrum dismissively. "I'll get the rest of the food."

 _Stay safe_ , I wanted to call out, watching the TARDIS doors close behind her – knowing that the next time they'd open; we'd be at the heart of an impending alien invasion.

Mickey and Rose were off talking behind me, playing around with bobbles on the TARDIS console – probably trying to get the T.V screen working.

My hands – suddenly twitching from a spurn of anxiety – didn't know where to fall. So I let them rest, my eyes zoning out on the view of them spread like pale starfish on top of the metal grate. They made a funny sight against the ships floor, a sudden pang of dissociation making me take a deep look at the two parts – me and this ship – that never should've been able to touch. It made me realise how much like a dream this still felt.

They're cold too, my hands, like the rest of me right now – resisting the warmth that struggles to seep into them from the TARDIS's automated temperature.

Now, with every second that passes by outside the TARDIS, I feel like a cage closing in – sealing off any viable exit.

Sure I had just been within less than ten feet of an actual Weeping angel, no longer than a day ago – and that was huge, don't get me wrong. There was just something else about coming so near to being addressed by the commander of an alien race, knowing you had the lives of millions of human beings on your shoulders if you messed up – well, let's just say I always wondered how the Doctor did it so swagtastically.

Jeez, I hated the cold sweat dripping down my spine. There stood Mickey and Rose, engaged in their back-and-forth without a care in the world, and here I was – thinking myself into a freakout.

Suddenly an odd beeping rang out from a fixture on the console screen.

"Maybe that's a distress signal," Mickey was quick to respond.

"A fat lot of good that's going to do," Rose sighed into the open space – already given up.

Rose and Mickey continued to squabble – their chatter kinda cute, like they were used to being grossly domestic with each other. The beeping grew more incessant though, Rose suddenly falling silent – her attention having strayed to the door, her mind concerned about her mum.

I knew it was wrong – my plan of not stopping her – letting her nearly get a heart attack with what she'd probably find out there. I just knew I couldn't risk the chance of having her _not_ go out there – leaving the hostages completely defenceless.

"Mum isn't back yet. I'd better go give her a hand. It might start raining missiles out there."

Micky snorted. "Tell her anything from a tin, that's fine."

"Why don't you tell her yourself?"

He shrugged. "I'm not that brave."

"Oh, I don't know," Rose fluttered her eyes at the man for a last time, her sneakers sliding off across the gate. On her way to the door, her eyes caught mine - one of her hazel eyes winking at me playfully.

I made an amused face at the girl, my worries for her deflating then increasing at the same time, from the small act, as I watched her leave.

 _I'd just stay to make sure the tea spilt – just that and then I'm right behind her._

The doors swung shut behind the pink-and-yellow girl – and that's when I heard her scream.

" _Rose?"_ Mickey jumped – with me tuning in for the sound of clashing metal. He had jumped, making me assume he'd have dropped the canister he was holding – a pretty sound reaction right?

But unfortunately not for Mickey, because he held tight on that bottle – turning to me instead of rushing out, concerned over his girlfriend. "What's happened to her?"

" _Mickey Smith,_ you're supposed to have _dropped_ that tea!" I stressed, standing up straight like a lightning bolt – ready to zap the man for the change of events. _What if he had just royally screwed it up and the Doctor wouldn't wake up in time?_

He just huffed, looking a little lost, "Why'd I wanna do that? I'm not half as careless as she says I am."

"Yeah, you know what? Just- just go after your lady," I waved him off, prying the steel flask from his hands. I could've sworn he blushed redder than a tomato, before he wasted no time zoomed straight out the door – seemingly remembering the fact Rose had just screamed.

Hurrying at a speed that could've rivalled Usain Bolt, I unscrewed the flask – crouching down on the grate closest to the Doctor's head.

The sight of his annoyingly passive face distracted me.

" _You-_ You better not be late, you hear me?" I tried glaring at the sleeping man, watching as the wispy ends of brown hair fell into his eyes – my nerves making themselves known for the first time that day. I hesitated. "I mean, obviously you can't hear me, but – if you are I swear I'll draw a moustache on you. With permanent marker. Or I'll paint the TARDIS pink."

A low rumble of protest from the ship herself made me jump, reminding me to dump the tea. I looked up at the console as I poured.

"Ok, noted. No painting."

 _That was all I needed to do,_ I supposed. With a last rushed look at the Time-lord, the view of steam already fanning from the broken circuits, and a heavy gulp, I opened the door and jumped out.

" _My word._ Is that who I think it is?" A posh accent – or at least what I assumed was posh, I wasn't English – immediately made itself known as I took to quickly locking the TARDIS doors behind me.

I spun round, avoiding the large colosseum of red gladiator aliens standing menacingly from all sides, instead focusing on the human being beaming away at me.

Oh, look at that – another person who seemed to know me. I suppose I was a tad too distracted by her excitement to have minded.

"Harriet Jones!" I met eyes with the naturally disarming woman, beginning to grin like a loon. What a staple character she had been after all. I tilted my head at her questioningly, a funny expression on my face. "Flydale North?"

I smiled at her – remembering how she stole the show that one episode with the Slitheen. Even now, comparing her from her time as a persistent reporter to her position as the fricking Prime Minister – nothing much had changed besides the fancy suit-dress she was rocking.

"My dear! It's been far too long," She smiled a smile caught between being both toothy and regal.. Then, out of her jacket pocket, she pulled out a card and flashed it to me – much like an FBI officer would to prove their position. "And I don't imagine you keep up with British Politics. I'm the 'Prime Minister' now."

"Yes, I know you are," I almost laughed at that. Then, taking in the disarray on her face and the panic on Rose and Mickey's faces from behind her, I turned to her questioningly, "Was there a scuffle?"

"Yes, Rose told me that-that the Doctor-" She grabbed me gently by the crook of my elbow, gathering me in and speaking in a hushed whisper. Her tone was incredibly worried. "Say it isn't so. He's here, isn't he?"

Before I could respond with something just as cheesy as the emotional spiel I had given Rose earlier – a series of something loud and booming had put a cease to all sound in the round. The Sycorax's leader – standing in the centre of this arena shaped circle, stood a good three feet above any of us – as he was currently producing a long string of grunted words in an alien language.

"We t-thought the yellow girl was the one with the clever box but clearly – seeing as this one was last to l-leave- to lock it – the smaller one shall do," a human man – the translator I presumed – was reading from his box, translating the words of the Sycoraxian leader. "Though, it seems a shame – for such a microscopic runt to speak for their planet."

The room full of aliens burst into a roaring laughter.

I watched bug-eyed.

 _Come again?_

"Come again?" I barely managed to pipe up. Was he saying what I think he was saying, because oh no, _no, no_.

 _ **This was very bad.**_

God – Jeez, _god_ knew how fast it happened – I certainly didn't – but quite suddenly, I felt like a sheep on the cutting block. A crab being thrown into a vat of boiling water.

"I think he wants you to represent us," A voice, maybe Harriet, said into my ear.

 _Oh? Just the whole human race? Oh no big, I did this every Sunday._

My brain was fogging up.

I could feel it all – so, so suddenly. The throbbing of my own eyes, the ringing screams in my head vibrating in my ears – and the thumping of my heart against my chest. My fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into my palm. I couldn't hear my breathing pick up, but I could feel the oxygen flooding in and out of my lungs.

I knew I didn't want to die – not yet, never yet. But to be responsible for the lives of _everyone_ – every life, every man, woman, and baby? I feel like I'd take death in a heartsbeat compared to this.

 _This was like Christian and Angelo, all over again. I'd be responsible._

" _But she can't."_

I looked up, into the eyes of Rose.

Rose Tyler, who looked so very worried.

When was the last time someone looked so worried over me? Over whether I'd live or die?

I had never gotten this close – never enough to notice if anyone actually cared. Would anyone remember me if I died here?

Human beings – we're fickle with our feelings, our words – we'd never tell. So how were we supposed to know when someone else genuinely gave a toss about us?

Well, I guess we could only judge from what we managed to find.

And with Rosie looking at me like that – with there so much feeling behind her eyes – I felt like she'd care.

 _If I didn't go, she would._

I knew I couldn't let her do this instead of me – let her get within an inch of her life before I did something to go first. I suppose I cared about the pink girl too.

And plus, the Doctor would never let me off scot-free if I didn't make sure the girl he loved stayed as safe as humanly possible.

" _I can do it,"_ I gulped deep. The fear was travelling, beating, through my veins – but I didn't dare let it make its way to the skin on my face. Instead, I flashed her a small, easy smile.

I smiled to make other people smile – even when I didn't mean it. I'd do it when I wanted to cheer baby Jackson up – _I'd do it to cheer Rose Tyler up._

I patted her once on the shoulder – a poor excuse of a farewell if I'd ever seen one. "Keep safe, Rose."

"No. Don't you dare." She grabbed me harshly by the shoulders. "Ona, you _can't!_ You just met the Doctor. You just got here. You're gonna get yourself killed."

I smiled sadly at the fury in her gaze, but my mind was already made up. "Yeah well, in retrospect, I was big enough of a fan to an almost embarrassing degree so I think I'll manage," I surmised, feeling the cringe of that in my bones – somehow resonating stronger than the fear.

 _Well_ , looks to have paid off here – I agreed with myself, a tiny bit more confident – considering I'd know hell of a lot more than Rose just listing the aliens she and the Doctor had met thus far. Suck it Ms. Remington, my sixth-grade teacher – who said I'd never make a penny's worth of a difference watching all those 'damn shows of mine'.

I turned around to look at her, my expression feign-fully hard and serious enough to match hers that held genuine worry. I smiled. "I'm gonna wing it."

With that I walked ahead of her, ignoring her screams of protest and how Micky had to actually hold her back from trying to stop me. The thought of her caring about me like that was enough to break my heart, after all.

 _Someone's got to be the Doctor_ – I repeated to myself like a mantra, the words I once heard Rose use in the show.

I stopped until I was just a couple feet away from the alien leader. I tried standing to my full height – aiming to find some authority. I didn't know who I was kidding though – I was about as intimidating as a butterfly.

I shivered, an image of me – nothing more than a pile of dust and bones in a heap on the floor – flashing past my eyes. On the show, when Rose had tried and failed – she had been relatively safe. But me? What the hell would've assured me that the alien didn't just feel a funny urge to gank me the second I opened my mouth.

" _Dude, you fugly,"_ I whispered under my breath, taking in the features the show just hadn't managed to do justice. I recoiled at the sight of rabid foam around the edges of his sharp curled teeth, his eyes a hellish red. He was like a monster from one of my childhood fairytales.

He made a series of thundering noises, the translator – Alex – noted as _"Speak! Or we put an end to your life as vermin!"_

"Right well, where to start," I stumbled, my words bounding out in a scared tumble. _I could do this_. I spoke up against Octavian when I needed to, this guy was no different. Bullies and baddies come in all shapes and sizes.

I fell short for only a second before I seemed to stumble across a series of fancy words Eleven had once used in accordance with the Atraxi – aka, the giant eyeball aliens who wanted to blow up the earth.

 _Oh for the love of all that's good, please let this work. Let me know the words._

"I-I do believe I'm right in saying that convention _er–_ _15_ of the Shadow Proclamation deals with the cessation of hostile actions in order to parley, but that's ruled out because... Oh- oh! That one article – _article 57_ – prohibits the destruction of a fully established Level 5 planet. A friendly little example of such being Earth – the 'tiny rock' you've been threatening to destroy."

I finished, having entirely spit-balled the whole way through. _Wow, I just made eleventh grade politics class my bitch_ – who knew all that fancy lingo would've come in handy one day?

The leader laughed snidely, not the loud boisterous kind from before – causing a rumble of snickers to emerge from his crowd, like they were doing it to appease him rather than thinking it was funny.

"The Shadow Proclamation have no authority here – _over us!"_ He banged his staff against the crowd loudly – so loud that it echoed throughout the room, causing his men to rile to his support and shout their agreement. He got close to my face, hissing his words – his breath like rancid meat.

I flinched, my knees trembling as he towered over me. I held my breath, like a scared David in front of raging Goliath.

"We are the Sycorax, we stride the darkness! Next to us you are but a clueless child. If you are the best your planet can offer as a champion, then your world will be gutted. And your people enslaved."

"Hold on, that's English," Alex interrupted himself – finding that his voice was eerily lining up with the Sycorax leader's words.

"He's talking English," Harriet noted, just as confused.

"Oh finally," I sighed, feeling my muscles drain – not completely so because of the dangerous, armed alien still standing in close proximity.

"I would never dirty my tongue with your primitive bile," He wailed. "I speak only Sycoraxic!"

"If I can hear English, then it's being translated. Which means it's working. Which means..." Rose began, her head turning to look at the TARDIS doors – forcing everyone to follow her direct line of sight.

Then, what could only be the sweetest sound in the galaxy, the creaking open of two wood doors was enough to make every human in the room smile.

" _Did you miss me?"_ Ten grinned at us cheekily.

Before I had a second's worth of time to fall to the ground from the relief I felt, from behind me, I heard a noise that suddenly put the hope in the air to shame. I felt electricity – like the air from before a force of impact. _The air from before something was about to hit you._

I was in its direct line of sight.

Like instinct, I shut my eyes and closed my arms around myself – hearing the snap of a whip. And then, feeling like I was shoved away – away behind someone – I looked up to see that the Time-Lord himself had pushed me behind him, taking the Sycorax leader's weapon from him like it was nothing.

"Right. Touch her, or anyone here for that matter, and I break you _and_ your armada," Ten spoke tritely, a thin layer of ire veiled in his tone.

The nonchalance in his voice so very contradictory to the weight in his words. Words I didn't believe were in the original.

He hadn't looked me in the face yet, but still – easily, he kept on. "You could have someone's eye out with that."

" _How dare!"_ The leader snarled as the Doctor suddenly snatched and snapped a thick club off of another Sycorax, breaking it across his knee.

"You just can't get the staff. Now, you, just wait. _I'm busy_ ," He spoke in a stern voice, getting up close in the aliens face. Then, like an exuberant ten year old, he started going down the line.

"Mickey, hello! And Harriet Jones MP for Flydale North. Blimey, it's like This Is Your Life," He rattled on, scanning over everyone and everything before finally – like he had almost purposely been making me wait – he turned to me.

His eyes were shining like a Cheshire Cat.

" _Tea!_ You knew that's all I needed, a good cup of tea! Superheated infusion of free radicals and tannin. Just the thing for healing the synapses. My _god_ , have you always been this tiny?"

My head snapped to him – my face painted in shock and offence from the sudden question. Going against my first instinct to curse him out, I reigned myself in – a bit uneasy with him speaking to me in this scene. _I wasn't even that short_ – coming to just below his shoulder. Still, I shrugged, looking down. "No, I think you just grew a foot."

" _No,_ you've always been this tiny," He stared ahead deeply for a moment, like he was solving some complex mathematical equation – before holding his hand up to my forehead then measuring it back to himself until it reached just below his shoulder.

"Ah. Not as much of a difference as I'd thought," He made a hmph-face, shrugging like he'd reached a satisfactory result, "Now, first things first. Be honest, how do I look?"

His voice had dropped ridiculously low – like he was asking me for a great revelation no one else could listen in on. His eyes were intense – stilling all noise in the room in the way I'm sure only he could do.

 _Um, why don't you go ask Posey over there_ – I wanted to say, because seriously wouldn't he rather care what Rose thought?

"Well, it's a change. Drastic – say goodbye to leather jackets type of drastic. It's different," I scrambled, deliberately looking for a open-ended answer while I tried to catch a glimpse of Rose's face – only to see that she didn't look out-of-the-ordinary in the slightest. Only watching our exchange, bemused.

"Well, do you like it? Is it a good different or a bad different?" The Doctor asked despite my uncomfortableness – forcing my eyebrows to hit my hairline. Why did he want my input? ' _Why?'_ – I hadn't a clue that's why.

I wanted to ask him straight up – since I normally wasn't one to beat around the bush. But with the eyes of every living thing in this place on me – I found it hard to directly confront him.

"Well," I gulped, my eyes roving over his new features like I was looking at him for the first time ever. Back home, had I liked him in the context he was asking? Of course, he was classically charming – an easy character to go nuts over. But now – did I really want to step that line of admitting he was attractive?

I shrugged non-committedly. "I guess so. A good different – in a very 'Looney tunes' type of way," I tried, hesitant, looking confused I'm sure. Still, I wasn't really able to place if he was more of a 'Bugs Bunny' or a 'Goofy'. _Snap – he was neither_ , I realised. 'Tigger the Tiger' it was, but that was neither here nor there.

He seemed to consider this though, his own feelings flashing around, hidden behind his eyes. Then, with an expectantly sharp gaze, he looked at me again, "Am. I. Ginger?"

"Nope. Browner than burnt toast," I grinned against my will, being quick to smother out the traces of a smile – that being a bit too good of an opportunity to just let slide.

"Ah, that was a smile," He grinned back exuberantly – like he knew perfectly well he managed to sneak past the uneasiness I felt. His smile turned sour then, as he seemingly remembered, "Still, _I_ _wanted to be ginger_. I've never been ginger."

His hand suddenly shot up to snap at Rose, who looked alarmed, " _And you,_ Rose Tyler, fat lot of good you were! You gave up on me. Oh, that's rude. That's the sort of man I am now, am I? Rude. Rude and not ginger. _Oh that's where she gets it from_." He ended, his voice a whisper as he said the last thing secretly to himself, a wave of understanding seemingly descending upon him.

"I'm sorry. Who is this?" Harriet interrupted.

I watched as the Doctor walked over to her, making his re-introductions. I knew it had to have been a bad idea – but I let my mind wander back to what he had apparently asked me before. I gave myself a second to watch him and think.

Despite the slight, sly look he had about him – there wasn't a doubt he wasn't attractive, in an unconventional way, I supposed. Still, regardless of the way he looked, there were his eyes that caught me by surprise. They were so light right now – betraying the age I had seen in them before.

He was a handsome dude, that was sure. But I suppose it was the mystery behind him that threw me off. It wasn't like he was a character being played by an actor anymore – he was a real man with real thoughts. Thoughts I didn't know much about.

"Who exactly are you?" The Sycorax leader's guttural voice broke through my thoughts.

"Well, that's the question," The Doctor, as nonchalant as ever, responded.

"I demand to know who you are!"

"I don't know!" He mocked the other alien, mimicking his shouting – before immediately straightening out. "See, there's the thing. I'm the Doctor, but beyond that, I just don't know. I literally do not know who I am. It's all untested. Am I funny? Am I sarcastic? Sexy?-"

Looking away from him was unthinkable in that moment, as he turned to wink at us, already on a role.

"-Right old misery? Life and soul? Right handed? Left handed? A gambler? A fighter? A coward? A traitor? A liar? A nervous wreck? I mean, judging by the evidence, I've certainly got a gob. And how am I going to react when I see this, a great big threatening button. A great big threatening button which must not be pressed under any circumstances, am I right? Let me guess. It's some sort of control matrix, hmm? Hold on, what's feeding it?"

" _Is that man really your doctor?"_ Harriet hooked a hand around my elbow, voice a whisper as her eyes were glued to the new Doctor and the absolute scene he was making. He was already in the middle of exposing the alien race of their tricks.

"Mhm," I hummed, agreeing, an eyebrow raised at her choice of phrasing. I sighed then, "Skinny as a pencil, smart as a whip, and quite possibly the maddest man currently living."

"Blood control!" The man in question suddenly shouted. "Oh, I haven't seen blood control for years. _You're controlling all the A Positives._ Which leaves us with a great big stinking problem. Because I really don't know who I am. I don't know when to stop. So if I see a great big threatening button which should never, ever, ever be pressed, then I just want to do this."

" _No!"_ Rose and Harriet shouted to stop him. "You killed them!"

"What do you think, big fellow? Are they dead?" The Doctor chided the alien, already knowing.

"We allow them to live," The leader spat out.

The Doctor scoffed, "Allow? You've no choice. I mean, that's all blood control is. A cheap bit of voodoo. Scares the pants off you, but that's as far as it goes. It's like hypnosis. You can hypnotise someone to walk like a chicken or sing like Elvis. You can't hypnotise them to death. Survival instinct's too strong."

"Blood control was just one form of conquest. I can summon the armada and take this world by force."

"Well, yeah, you could, yeah, you could do that, of course you could. But why? Look at these people. These human beings. Consider their potential. From the day they arrive on the planet and blinking step into the sun, there is more to see than can ever be seen. More to do than- No, hold on. Sorry, that's The Lion King. But the point still stands. _Leave them alone!"_

"Or what?"

"Or-" The Doctor jumped up from his spot facing the leader, running back close to us and knicking a sword off the closest Sycorax guard. He held the sword up to the leader – looking a tad bit unthreatening. "I challenge you."

I rolled my eyes as laughter picked up in the crowd once again. "Oh great, he's regenerated into fricking Zorro."

"Oh, that struck a chord," He huffed. "Am I right that the sanctified rules of combat still apply?"

"You stand as this world's champion." The leader claimed – the whole show summarised in a single sentence.

Ten seemed to share the opinion. "Thank you. I've no idea who I am, but you just summed me up."

He quickly undid the blue robe he was wearing – tossing it blindly behind him – straight at my face. I sputtered, pawing it away and fixing my ruffled hair from the impact – I mean who could've seen that coming?

" _Jerk,"_ I muttered harshly, folding the robe up and holding it in between crossed arms.

The Doctor had already turned, "So, you accept my challenge? Or are you just a _cranak pel casacree salvak?"_

Something dangerous passed the alien leaders eyes – his mind seemingly made from the insult.

" _For the planet?"_

Ten smirked – a picture of overconfidence. "For the planet."

" _You're mad,"_ I exclaimed in disbelief, an urgent warning, like he didn't know already. The Sycorax outweighed him in strength, size and experience I imagined. Sure, the Doc ended up winning in the show – but anything was probable in this realm of possibility.

Ten smiled widely as their swords clashed for the first time – steel striking steel. He winked at me, despite the fact he nearly missed a swing to the neck. _"As a hatter!"_

He bolted then, leaving the rest of us in hot pursuit. He bounded up the rocky pathway, slamming down on a veiled button on the wall.

"Bit of fresh air?"

The sunlight was sudden – filling my eyes with hazy blindness. Adjusting I watched alongside Rose, Harriet, and Mickey, and the two duellers stood parallel on the sandy cliff-face.

The Doctor held the blade even, a perfect, undaunted horizon; always leveled with the nose as he sized up the leader once more. He had stalled the creature's strike, but I watched as a wretched, stained grin split his lips as his blade flashed. He brought it over his head and hummed a low, swift tune when he brought it down – the hilt hitting the Doctor harshly in the nose.

I winced, cringing and going cold. Then like a fire, sparked by a match in my chest – I filled with indignation.

I didn't know why, but seeing him actually get hurt made me pissed. Despite the fact that he was a moron who chose to do this in the first place, he only wanted to help – fight a battle he didn't have to, for the sake of other people.

A sudden burning rage had hissed through my body like deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence. I didn't care that I probably wasn't even strong enough to go toe-to-toe with a fricken Magikarp – what mattered was that, somehow, I _felt_ like I could take on an army of Charizards.

"Stay back!" The Doctor looked back at us, like he could almost feel the outrage emanating off of me. Rose and Harriet looked equal parts scared and worried, while Mickey looked somewhat concerned. He shot us a look, cradling his hurt nose. "Invalidate the challenge and he wins the planet."

I pressed my lips together thinly, opting to just glare a hole in the Sycorax's head instead.

The leader knocked the Doctor down, his head knocking from the impact. And then, with a quick slash, the sword and a hand fell to Earth.

Just for a second, as time froze, he looked like a lifeless corpse in the middle of a street, his white shirt stained in red from the new tear in the fabric. Then, with a look of pure 'are you kidding me?' he looked up at the Sycorax – a totally appropriate reaction for having your hand chopped off, if you ask me.

"You cut my hand off!"

" _Ya! Sycorax!"_ The larger alien whooped a war cry, the echoes of his kin shouting from back inside the colosseum.

"And now I know what sort of man I am. I'm lucky," The Doctor got back up, dusting the sand off his knees. "Because quite by chance I'm still within the first fifteen hours of my regeneration cycle, which means I've got just enough residual cellular energy to do this."

Holding the bloody stump in the air – a feature that sickeningly wasn't shown in its true gore-y fashion on the show – we watched in thinly veiled awe as the gold dust I'd seen leave him since the past two days, coated his hand like a mist.

Then, in painstaking detail – new skin started to form in the place of what was once there. A new hand.

"Ugh, _gross_." I felt my skin curl like year old expired milk, and I wasn't all the squeamish either, mind you.

"Witchcraft!" The Sycorax cried, outraged.

The Doctor just wiggled his new fingers along with his brows – his smile smug.

" _Time Lord."_

"Doctor!" Rosie called out to him, throwing him a new sword she just so managed to find ? _Good job I guess_. I smiled at her – vaguely confused.

"Oh, so I'm still the Doctor, then?" The Doctor called back contemptuously, like he was proving a point.

"No arguments from me!" Rose beamed, making me feel a twinge of something akin to disappointment.

I mean, sure – she was a kid. But so was I.

I get that she got thrown for a rollercoaster ride – seeing the Doctor regenerate so quickly. She lost the man she kind of liked, I suppose. But still, her feelings for the Doctor might've been slightly thin to begin with, if she could just recover all this fast.

I looked over to Mickey, who was surprisingly – watching Rose. The boy was still in love with her.

Was it my place to be thinking this? No, I suppose not. But still, maybe I'd have a chat with Rose if I had the time later. Both the kids needed all the time they had, at least where they weren't miserably mooning after different people.

I snapped back to the present, looking away from Mickey to see that the Doctor had disarmed the Sycorax, the sword falling right off the edge as the Doctor stood over the other alien, the pair overlooking London.

"I win," The Doctor bit out, clear thrill of victory having taken over his features.

The leader smiled. "Then kill me."

"I'll spare your life if you'll take this Champion's command. Leave this planet, and never return. What do you say?"

"Yes," he hung his head in shame.

The Doctor pressed his sword close against the aliens throat, "Swear on the blood of your species!"

"I swear."

"There we are, then. Thanks for that. Cheers, big fellow!" The Doctor stabbed the sword into the ground, turning around to swagger right back to us. He was grinning so infectiously, I worried his face would stick that way – new regeneration and all.

Rose and Harriet were cheering away, clapping excitedly. The air had turned so exuberant, I'll admit even I couldn't fight a smile from worming itself to my face. I shook my head to fight the smile – because I just knew he'd look oh so smug if I didn't – my eyes shut as he got near enough to stand right in front of me.

"Not bad for a man in his jim-jams, wouldn't you say?" He tapped me on forehead – forcing me to open my eyes, because who else's responsibility was it to roll them at him?

I narrowed my eyes at him, concedingly holding out his robe for him to put on, "How'd a beanpole like you get so good with a sword anyways?"

He barked a laugh, the muscles of his back rolling as he hooked his arms through the sleeves. "Like anyone who learns something. Must've been _oh... late 17_ _th_ _Century!_ I met this bloke – a real cavalier – _Joseph Boulogne_. It was Paris – he must've been 17, so that's before he got into the bit of his life with classical music – but before he went and did all that, he had one hell of a swing."

I nodded at him placatingly – knowing he could've been ranting on about anyone at this rate. I'd really have to start reading up if I had any chance at getting his vague history references.

"Hold on, what have I got in here? A Satsuma," He reached into his pocket, pulling out the orange fruit and looking at Rose – thoroughly confused before he remembered. "Ah, that friend of your mothers. He does like his snacks doesn't he? But doesn't that just sum up Christmas? You go through all those presents and right at the end, tucked away at the bottom, there's always one stupid old satsuma. Who wants a satsuma?"

"I reckon the scary alien who's about to run at us might," I mumbled, watching in rapt tension as the Sycorax leader got up, grabbing the sword the Doctor left behind. Looking like a red, angry bull, he began to charge at us. But before he could get any close, the Doctor threw the satsuma at a control on the spaceship hull, causing a piece of the wing to open up – plunging the alien to his death.

"No second chances. I'm that sort of a man," The Doctor said, a sharp determination on his face that... looked a tad severe.

Hesitantly, I reached up to place a hand around the crook of his elbow – my mind flashing back to Eleven. I didn't really like 85% of all living things, most the time – the other 15% exclusively being cats and dogs – which was why this made me uncomfortable. I didn't _know_ how to be comfortable – warm with everyone I met. Not like Rose could.

Still, the Doctor just somehow managed to find a way to wriggle under my skin.

This thing-this light connected us to the other – and I suppose that despite the ever changing companions, there was a bond that'd been established between the two of us. He was going to be my only constant, in these places.

In a stilted second, like he hadn't been expecting it, the Doctor looked at my hand on his arm. Then, with an apparent ease – he smiled a tinier, freer smile – patting my hand like a thank you.

Before we knew it, we were back inside with a couple hundred furious Sycoraxian warriors.

"By the ancient rites of combat, I forbid you to scavenge here for the rest of time. And when go you back to the stars and tell others of this planet, when you tell them of it's riches, it's people, it's potential. When you talk of the Earth, then make sure that you tell them this," The Doctor instructed as we stood in front of the TARDIS once again.

" _It is defended."_

I jolted then, watching both sadly and confused as a white beaming light surrounded me. Was it really time to go now?

I wiped my brow though, when I realised it was just the beam of the Sycoraxians – sending all of us back to earth, smack-dab in the centre of an empty street. I stayed by the TARDIS as the rest of the crew wandered to get a better look of where we landed.

"Where are we?" Rose asked.

"We're just off Bloxom Road. We're just round the corner, we did it!" Mickey cheered.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," The Doctor held up an anxious finger, only easing up when he watched the spaceship fly away.

"Go on, my son! Oh, yeah!" Mickey and Rose were hollering and hugging like a bunch of teens, "Yeah! Don't come back!"

"Well, I'd say that wasn't a total failure," A voice – the Doctor, suddenly found me as I leant my back against the TARDIS door.

"Yeah, not completely," I smiled, sighing as I felt my muscles go loose from the relief of it being over. I shot the Doctor a tiredly stern look – wanting to ruffle his feathers as punishment for his life being so hectic. I looked at him wryly, "I don't want to be overdramatic, but this week so far has felt like a hundred years in hell, not to mention it being the absolute worst week of my life."

"You're exaggerating," He smiled, making me scoff a smile. He seemed to easily spot all my bluffs. He walked to stand beside me then, imitating the way I had myself propped against the time machine. "'Sides, I knew you were young – but I also know that from what you've told me, things eventually calm down at your end."

"Oh, that's nice to know," I said, genuinely meaning it. As much as I had that I wanted to do eventually – it'd be nice to stay in one place for a while. I caught sight of Harriet from the corner of my eye – she was on the phone, speaking in hushed whispers.

"Doctor?" I turned back to the time-lord, worry beginning to seize me.

I had told myself I'd help where I could – prevent the deaths of human and aliens alike – because I wouldn't be able to sleep at night if I didn't. But like this? I didn't have the authority to speak on someone's morality – and this would be a defining moment in the course of England's history, in this universe. Harriet choosing to blow up the ship – to spiral out of power, it was so much bigger than saving the lives of a couple men.

I couldn't stop Harriet. I couldn't prevent her stupid Torchwood plan from blowing up the Sycorax's ship. I couldn't prevent the Doctor from ruining her reputation.

Why? Because there were a thousand and one possibilities where I could've screwed up and changed the future for the worse. It was like in 'Back to the Future 2' with the messed up alternate reality that arose – one small tiny change that wasn't supposed to happen was fine, but with a decision this big, I'd be sparking off a whole set of changes.

I didn't want to choose. After all, choosing who lives and who dies is what makes someone a monster – I looked up at the Doctor, who was looking back, first with an eyebrow quirked in response and then, a face lined with a niggling sense of curiosity. I wondered how he did it, how he chose _who_ to save, he was the time-traveller after all.

And I suppose it didn't hurt to ask.

"If you had the chance to change something bad, knowing it'd happen for sure... but you didn't know what'd come from it," I started, my voice thin as paper. "What would you do?"

 _What should I do?_

His eyebrows rose, brown eyes like copper against honey and sage as they grew in sudden concern – but regardless of the hidden alarm on his face, he looked to be considering the words. He gulped then, looking to me with something – an answer wouldn't hurt.

"My Doctor," Harriet approached us then, oblivious to the seriousness in the air surrounding the Doctor and I. She stole the Doctor by the arm for a quick hug. "Absolutely the same man. Are there many more out there?"

He smiled at her apprehensively – completely clueless to the fact he'd be the one to ruin her in a few minutes if I didn't do something about it. He looked like he didn't want to walk away still, shooting me quick worried glances intermittently.

I smiled back at the Doctor – trying my absolute to just smile and wave him off like a kid going to Sunday school. I moved a bit far off from the happy crowd, arms wrapped around myself in thought.

I wanted to be a peacekeeper where I could – that was a given by now. Whatever this knowledge I had was good for, that's as much as I wanted to use it to prevent death – of any kind. I was a sappy person sure, but I didn't want to do this just because 'it was the noble thing to do' – I wanted to do it so that families didn't have to lose the people they loved. So Bob's mother didn't have to lose a son. So that wives like Christian's didn't have to lose the love of their lives.

But to change this – _it would be too much._

* * *

And so it happened.

Just like it should've.

We left the street, taking the TARDIS and returning back to the Powell Estate – leaving behind a heartbroken Harriet Jones. The Doctor had been angry too, a brief flash of what was known as 'the Oncoming Storm' – fire and fury tainting his voice as he tore down the Prime Minister with six single words.

 _Don't you think she looks tired?_

I shivered.

 _No second chances. I'm that sort of a man._

He wasn't mad at me for my choice with the Sycorax, even though my brain was still trying to justify the choice to my heart. It was becoming increasingly evident he didn't want me to go round changing things, if Eleven's words had been any consolation.

Even so, I don't think it'd be wise to get on this man's bad side.

I toed the spots in the floor's grating with my boot, anxiously awaiting the Doctor's arrival – sat on one the surprisingly comfy booster seats. Rose, Mickey, and Jackie had gone up already – back to the apartment. Rose had beamed around like a butterfly despite the sadness that hung in the air – her joy for Christmas being too strong to be contained. Both mum and daughter shooed me away to assist the Doctor with his 'fashion crises' – a suspicious teasing tone to their laughter as they did.

Ah – she really was a precious cinnamon roll – the yellowy girl. Excitedly, she had promised me a surprise when I returned.

Anyway, that was the extent of it as I waited for Mr. 'Project Runway' to make a fabulous reappearance. As any fan of the show would know, this was a stage of absolute critical importance – the clothes were what fuelled the desires of fangirls for a whole three years, after all.

I rolled my eyes at the voice in my head, running my fingers over the item I held in my hands.

Nine's dusty leather jacket. It was huge and heavy, completely covering the span of my lap, despite my attempts to fold it down. The surface was covered with scrapes and scratches, embedded pieces of either dust or sand. I wasn't intentionally being creepy, but the heavy scent of it – a warm amber, was nudging my curiosity.

It was like I was holding something that belonged to a stranger, despite the fact I was just chatting with the man earlier. I suppose it was a better thought than the reality – that Nine, despite the fact that I hadn't even met him yet, was gone. He was in a way, dead.

That thought saddened me in a way I wasn't expecting.

I knew there was no use lamenting over that concept. I couldn't do anything about it anyway. All I could do was hope his memory kept strong, and that memento's of him, like this jacket, didn't end up at the back of some closet to gather dust. A part of me felt... no, _knew_ , for certain, that he did. He was a man that enjoyed forgetting. It was a way to keep him happy and light, I understood, but I knew there was good in remembering where you started from as well.

"Would you keep it safe for me?" I whispered to the TARDIS cieling. "I don't know what he does with them when he changes each time... but it would be a shame to forget."

The surrounding walls hummed musically – almost as if the ship shared my sentiment.

"Great," I smiled. Then looking down at the jacket I had yet to know, I patted it, "here's to the possibility of adventures to come."

I was happy with the send-off to the inanimate object, before I heard the clanking of feet nearby.

There he stood, clad in that ever familiar sandy coloured trench coat of his – a brown pinstriped suit to match the shade of his eyes and of his hair. And to top everything off – a pair of strikingly red converse, that would've looked absurd worn by anyone but him. Oh, who was I kidding – look up 'absurd' in the dictionary and you'd probably find a little picture of him there, waving up at you.

"What'dya think?" He drawled, his scorn over Harriet being like it was something of the past. It was Christmas after all, and I didn't think he was in any mood to be sad.

"It's very suave," I gave a half-suppressed laugh, "But not at all worth the wait. Did you seriously have to take _thirty five minutes?"_

I smirked on the inside though, knowing I'd have waited a whole while longer if it meant he'd have chosen anything other than the iconic get-up. I think, at this point, it'd be a crime against humanity for him to have adorned anything else.

"No, no! You can do better than that, eh?" He exclaimed, completely ignoring me pressing him about the time. Instead, he stood a bit straighter, tugging at his lapels grandly. "Is it incredibly charming?"

I eyed him down. "You've got about as much charm as a dead slug," I spoke wryly, feeling quite like I was lying through my teeth.

"She says as she fights a smile," He grinned until his laugh lines were prominent. _Heh, a new face that already had lines in it_ – I thought, a bit fondly if anything. _They suited him._

"Am not," I gave in, grinning unabashedly. I rolled back on the balls of my feet after a second of silence, my hands behind my back. He scratched the back of his neck too, looking almost like a teen boy who didn't know what to say to the girl he liked – a stupid metaphor considering he liked Rose. I looked back at him suddenly, the thought throwing me off. "So, what're you going to do now?"

"Head up," He replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's Christmas time after all – I thought you'd have run off before I even got here."

I shot him a suspicious look, a tad confused since Christmas was kinda a sore subject for me – but he made it sound like I was its biggest fan. Still, I ignored that thought, focusing on him instead. I smiled, deciding to bring up the dreaded 'd' word. "But I thought you weren't one for _domestics?"_

"Ah," He smiled, seemingly caught out. His eyes, like fur, then softened off the wit. "This year, I'll make an exception. New me, after all. Here–"

He suddenly reached into his pocket – a pocket that seemed to extend much farther than what I assumed was a normal surface space for men's pockets. I mean, I knew they had it better than us girls – damn corporate clothing industries – but still. Then, like a magician almost, he pulled and unfurled a whitish-grey scarf. Wasting nothing but a quick questioning look for approval, he looped it over my neck – looking down at me as he tied it.

I looked back, confused. _"You got me a scarf?"_

"It's cold out, and you human's are notorious for being incredibly breakable," He started, his eyes intently focused on the act of tying in a somewhat 'Sherlock Holmes'y style – almost like he was avoiding my gaze. "I saw it, thought it matched your eyes, I snagged it. The TARDIS won't mind if that's what you're worried about."

Words left me. I stared into those bright brown eyes, darting around like he wasn't trying to make a big deal about it, and my heart fell silent.

"Oh," the word managed to break through, my face clearing up. Even though I had one of Rosie's warm sweaters on, he'd gone out of his way to get me something to beat off the cold – _and to say it was because he noticed it because of my eyes._

That was – _very thoughtful of him_ , I thought, a bit flustered. I felt a corner lip quirk slightly – partly from confusion, partly from the frazzlement I felt.

"Let's go?" He smiled a small smile at me and I felt myself go warm, despite the cold wind emerging from the door he just opened – having walked away from the console.

"Yeah," I choked, coughing before I walked after him, a little too quick. "Don't want to keep Jackie Tyler waiting after all. She'd take it as a personal offence to her cooking."

He snorted, in complete agreeance, shutting the door after me.

* * *

We walked into the residence, only to find that the utterly pungent smell from before had intensified tenfold. But still, the smell, coupled with the tinsels and fairy lights – strung up on every corner of every room – were enough to blind two of my five senses in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Taking a seat next to an ecstatic Rose was enough to brighten my spirits a bit, as I chewed down on some of the Christmas Turkey Jackie had made. It tasted a bit like plastic, sure – but for someone who'd been running on the grain bar River had given me, pure adrenaline, a couple Jolly Ranchers I had found stuffed in a pocket, and a few lungfuls of air – I'd say I was doing fantastically.

I was as mystified as I was intrigued when Rose pulled out a basket of 'Christmas Crackers' – something the English seemingly used around the holidays for funsies. I cracked one open, jumping a bit at the sudden pop. Still I found nothing but a handful of candy, a small parchment that had a lame-ass pun on it – _"_ _ **Who is Santa's favorite singer?**_ _ **Elf-is Presley!" -**_ if you were wondering – and a paper crown.

The crown was the kind of colour that looked white until something that really was white was held against it. Then it took on a more gold-ish hue, creamy really.

"It fits," The Doctor suddenly caught my attention. He was crowned in a red one – looking over the table at me, his arms folded in front of him. "Matches the scarf I got you."

"And my eyes too apparently," I made a face at him, calling him out on his cheesiness. Still, I couldn't help the goofy smile I wore after that, because hey – cheesy words were often only poorly worded compliments, right?

I looked over at Rose then, who had just opened her own cracker – unwrapping a pretty opera rose coloured crown. It was like fate had shined down on Rose Tyler – possibly against her wishes, judging from the grimace she wore at the sight of the colour – only to elect that everything about her be pink.

"Oh, that's yours," The Doctor agreed with my thoughts – knowing the colour was destined for the girl.

Still, she laughed it off. "It's pink! Mum, it should be yours."

"Oh please, as if everything about you doesn't scream pink," I rolled my eyes at her, prompting the girl to stick her tongue out at me. I smiled back, before the T.V caught my eye, "Look, it's Harriet Jones."

The Doctor pulled out his brainy specs – another momentous first for him, I realised – before we all turned to watch as the Prime Minister slowly crumbled on national T.V, the reporters going mad. I felt bad, pretty guilty for not doing anything to stop her. She'd been so nice to me, a natural auntie-like vibe radiating off her despite the fact she called for the destruction of a whole ship full of destructive warrior aliens. I suppose I just didn't know what to think.

I vaguely registered the telephone ringing before Jackie was calling to us in the lounge, "It's Beth. She says go and look outside."

"Why?" Rose got up anyway, confused.

"I don't know, just go outside and look. Come on, shift!"

The Doctor and I got up to, ready to follow the pink girl – that was before Jackie caught me by the arm on my way out.

"Fiona, poppet," Jackie ushered me into the small room by the door, garnering my attentions.

Moving to sit with her on the bed, to my surprise, I saw that she looked to be holding the Doctors blue discarded robe. She'd seemingly taken a sewing needle to the material – turning it into something resembling a blanket or throw. I'd seen her tinkering on something while we ate, but it was now that I also noticed how she had painstakingly sewed a pattern of tiny white stars into what had been a plain blue velvet.

"Now I know it's last minute and all," She started, her face excited and peppy, "But it's Christmas, and after all you've done for my Rose – I'm not letting you off without a little present. Howard won't mind either."

"Jackie, I don't-" _deserve this_ , I wanted to say. Why would I? Why wouldn't she be giving it to the Doctor instead? I felt my heart thrum, conflicted.

But still, it was an incredibly pretty thing she had gone and made – for me of all people.

I smiled softly down at the blanket as she placed the folded lump into my lap. I knew the Tyler's weren't the most well-off family – just like my own – making sense how Jackie had truly gone off and made the gift seem like it a hundred-dollar, off the shelf treasure. We knew how to improvise where we could.

And besides, I thought that the work she had put in, actually making it for me, was what made it invaluable.

"That's alright love, it's silly, I know. You don't have to use it – even just keep it as a keepsake for today if you'd like," She suggested, toying with the material like she was suddenly regretful for using something already worn to make it. "To remember the time that Doctor of yours saved the planet. Again."

"I'll do no such thing," I suddenly declared triumphantly, a sudden urge to cheer up this delightful woman. Fanning the blanket out around me and bringing it to my back, I tied two ends around my neck – donning it as a cape. I flashed Jackie a pose, "What do you think? Can you already see me on the front page to every fashion magazine in the shops?"

She laughed in that high, shrill voice of hers – the tension and regret draining away completely from her face. "I'm glad you like it."

* * *

I made it out, perplexed that the Doctor had waited around for me.

Moving out to the terrace to go down the rickety old staircase, down to the open lot in front of the apartments – he stopped me in the doorway. With an expression equal parts vaguely annoyed, reminiscent, and grumpy, he toyed with the fabric I had wrapped around my shoulders, "So _that's_ where you get this thing from."

"What'dya mean? Jackie just made it for me," I raised a furrowed brow at him, before shrugging it off as unimportant. I flashed him a smile then, my eyes darting down to the getup – I had it bunched up around me, making me look almost stocky, "Anyway, what do you think? Winter's coming, after all," I used the gruffest voice I had on me – my best Ned Stark.

"Oh that is terrible," He smiled despite his look of having given up. Then quickly, he jumped down the remaining steps, "Hurry then. We don't have all night for your terrible quips."

"You're missing out then," I shot him a look before my gaze flittered up.

Snow.

Cold and soft.

I blinked up thoughtfully as the frost patiently kissed my face. I was captivated by the soft, dusty illusions of light that sat light on my eyelashes.

The air was of course frigid, but I hadn't expected the same dampness that comes before rain. Moving from the overbearing heat of the kitchen to the veranda was like sipping on ice-water in the height of summer.

"It's not snow, you know? Ash from the ship exploding-" He started, ready to go into one of his rambly bits, stilling when I held a hand out. My mood suddenly felt so untouchable – like he could've told me that this was angel dandruff, or some kind of pollen from thousands of alien creatures living in the atmosphere, as that seemed more feasible – I still couldn't tear my eyes off the sight.

"Dude, I practically grew up in the desert," I breathed, soft – the cold enveloping the words. I felt a sweat up my neck, despite the freeze, remembering the swelteringly hot summers in Pakistan – trips to the countryside only being a rare treasure. San Francisco was no better – with the ocean right at my feet, it'd stay damp all year round.

I'd never been anywhere where it snowed this way. But looking at it like this, I decided I adored it.

I felt my expression go warm as I shot the time-lord a look. "Let me have this one."

His eyes, his lips, and his spirit all at once seemed to smile a hidden smile at me – like he thought I wouldn't catch it. Heaven's knew why he looked that way – he was a centuries old being – maybe he liked seeing us humans get excited over things he took for granted. But the way in which he'd looked did throw me for a loop. Like there had been a little bit of magic in his gaze.

"Suit yourself," He added nonchalantly, a forged expression considering what I'd just seen.

Sighing and seeing the air puff out around me in a cloud of smoke, I watched as he walked off a bit – joining Rose for the chat I knew they needed to have. She was still so unsure about him, even though I'm sure the scene he made was convincing enough. The last step of the staircase made an appealing offer to just sit – let the main characters stew over plot, or whatever it was they did.

I huffed, taking in the frosty landscape. The ground was covered with white flakes falling from the sky – ash, not snow, I had to remind myself. Streaks of light cris-crossed the dark blanket above us – falling debris from the broken ship.

Sooner than later, my eyes grew dry – sliding over to see that Rose was talking to Mickey now. I watched his face fall from something Rose had said – a completely decimated man. The poor guy looked absolutely gutted. I'm sure Rose was blowing him off – again.

I shouldn't pry, I really shouldn't. But my mind was a safe haven for me and my thoughts. And even my thoughts couldn't deny that Mickey Smith had been given the severely short end of the stick.

Having the love of your life fall in love with a space traveller was quite shit luck, after all.

Soon enough, Rose seemed to take notice of my absence. Leaving behind a heartbroken Mickey, she tittered over towards me, her expression sombrely content – sparking up in amusement when she realised I was still wearing the thin paper crown I'd had on at dinner. I knew I looked a bit daft in the street, but it made me feel childishly safe – like a kid almost.

"Guess what?" She started, clearly excited. "The Doctor said I could come with you two! New planets, creatures! We'll see them' all."

"That's great Rosy," I smiled, only a slight line though. It baffled me how quick she could just bounce back from her sadness, while Mickey would probably be upset for months to come. I gave her a veiled look, sighing inwardly.

 _I was gonna pry._

"Have you ever gone fishing, Rose?"

"I'm a shop-keep from London, what'dya think?" She smiled, pushing her weight on the railing by my head so I'd have to look up at her. She stuck her tongue out between her teeth mischievously. "The only fish I'm interested in are at the chip shop down-street. "

I got up to my full height then, brushing away the residue from under me, "I haven't gone either, but let me give you a little tip, not that it's any of my business."

She quirked her face up, confused but amused. She waved me off nonchalantly, her other hand on her hip. "You're alright–"

"When you have a fish on the line, you don't just drag it behind the boat. You reel it in, or you cut it loose," I looked to her meaningfully. I'd read this in an advice column once – tacky-ish, sure – but the advice rang true. " _Especially_ if it's a nice, loyal fish, who's never been anything but decent to you."

Rose stilled. Her face dropped of its humour. She focused on something past me, looking at nothing in concentration before she turned back. Her eyes were an uncharacteristic sad. Wells of what looked like unwillingness and guilt.

"You're not talking about fish are you?"

"No, I'm not," I looked behind her – at Mickey. I gave her a small smile, knowing her thoughts weren't really on me anymore. I resisted the urge to apologise, pat her on the shoulder – do something to fix all of this so we could move on. I wasn't a fan of conflict after all. But... I just walked past her, into the open courtyard.

It suddenly struck me then, how even though she'd grown on me considerably – How, even though we were essentially the same age – we were very different people.

Rose was grand and bright – I was tinier than that. I didn't get along easy with people, not like she could.

The people I'd met in this world so far. Amy, River, Jackie, Mickey, Rose. _The Doctor_. The only things that kept me somewhat likable to them was the adrenaline – the ever-present confusion of why I was even here in the first place. It all kept me fast, sarcastic, and bitter – a combo that was fun in small doses maybe. But what else was I good for?

Besides, the only reason any of them seemed to like me was because they all apparently knew me. _What good would I be to them if they didn't?_

I had no clue why the companions I'd met – the Doctor's _family_ \- cared a single bit about me.

"You alright?" The Doctor's voice sounded as he bumped into me, quite literally. He knocked a shoulder into me, swaying on the balls of his feet expectantly.

I gave him a placating smile.

"I'm good." _I'm dying inside._ Ok, that was a tad melodramatic – but still. I had a lot on my mind.

Let's see what the agenda for the coming week held – aka, what I still had to consider. A, how I'm planning on getting home. B, how I was gonna deal with the Doctor and his friends while I was stuck here. And C, how I'd try to get some semblance of direction around whether I'd change things or not while I was here – save lives, the whole shebang.

It was all a work in progress – but at least I wasn't having a mental breakdown. Yet.

I frowned at him a bit. "Go away. Shouldn't you be talking to Ms. Sunshine, over there?" I stuck a thumb out to point at Rose, the yellow girl practically beaming over whatever her mum had just said to her while I sat boiling over thoughts.

He looked confused, taking note of my sour mood, but like he was trying to figure out how to approach a situation. He sighed, scratching the back of his head with the whole of his palm.

"Oftentimes– I've gathered, that when people feel miserable, they'll want to make other people miserable, too." He leaned in then, like he was revealing a secret. "Spoilers, it never helps."

He leaned back, attempting one of his classic smiles. "What's making you miserable, Fiona Moore?"

I almost flinched, finding traces of Idris's words in the Doctor's. Though the edge softened when I realised, that while the TARDIS had tried to force me to believe I was sad in the life I was living, the Doctor was asking me what was causing the grief I felt now.

"Yeah, I don't do that. The whole 'talk about your feelings' bit. I express my emotions in long groans at differing octaves," I shot him down, speaking matter-of-factly. "Besides, you're supposed to be a time-traveller, not a therapist."

He rolled his eyes at my unwillingness, but gave in all the same. "I'm a man of many talents. I think."

I sighed, fighting the urge to just give in. He was wearing me down, what with his sympathetic gaze and trying expression.

It wasn't like I wanted to keep secrets from him. I would love to tell him everything – give him all the answers I had, stored in my head. 'Hey Doctor, the next place you'll go to, you'll get mauled by a fleet of zombies, and cat-ladies in nun's wimples. Oh, can't forget that fleshy bit of skin Cassandra – you're in for a real hoot'.

If it was that simple, I would've done it already.

I just couldn't trust him. Couldn't trust what he'd do with that information. Who knew, through telling him – I might've just gone ahead and caused the deaths of hundreds more.

He was a good guy – I'd seen that myself – I just didn't think I could blurt out this stuff to anyone.

Also, it was unfair, but heavens knew I wanted to learn from him just the same – half of me certain he had the answers to every question I could ring up. What brought me here? What did Idris mean about the dreams? Why do your friends – the one's I've met so far – care for me? How long have I technically been a part of this life?

I looked up at him, my eyes hiding the hope I felt, to just _know._

 _Why do you look at me like that? Like you know me like the back of your hand – better even?_

Oh how I just wanted to talk. To just go sit with him somewhere and speak to man behind the blue box.

But there wasn't enough time for that. And if I couldn't have answers – I'd settle for home.

Despite the wobbliness in my mind, the Doctor kept watch straight ahead – a thousand yard stare if I ever seen one. His eyes were veiled, but like he could hear exactly what I was thinking – a knowing look betraying his youthful deceit.

A small smile suddenly sprouted, like dewy leaves from a tree. When he looked at me, it was like the changing seasons – a pensive winter turning into a radiant spring.

His eyes were ever so _certain_ of whatever it was he was going to say.

"Come with me." He spoke levelly, and all the noise seemed to disappear from the tiny courtyard. It wasn't like a question at all, not like the first time he'd asked me in his Eleventh incarnation. It sounded more like a solution.

I gulped, my chest heavy. "What do you mean?"

Was he physic or something? Could he _actually_ hear what I'd been considering – choosing to actively run against my wishes of wanting to leave?

He growled deep in his throat like he was agitated by my floundering.

" _I mean,_ Fiona Moore... Come with me." He stressed the words. Giving me a clear, open-eyed look. "I heard you, y'know? When I was a bit – under the weather. And you sounded awfully _reckless_. Glad to see you didn't get around to drawing the moustache, though."

 _Oh I knew it._

 _I knew it,_ I knew a small part of me knew that he had been listening in. It wasn't clear enough on the show, so I forgot – but jeez, that was just moronic of me. Go ahead and blurt out the only plans of escape I had to the only person who could stop me, sure.

It was a good thing I'd kept things vague, so he didn't know what I intended – to wait until Eleven reset time and space with the Pandorica.

"Reckless? Me? That's rich coming from the king of audaciousness!" I scoffed.

"Well, it gives me skills to know when someone else's being just as stupid then," He shot back, just as riled up as me, but less annoyed – like it was equal parts him finding humour outta something, and equal parts him trying to convince me. He sighed, dark eyes fixing me with a level stare. "All I'm saying is, you should give this a shot. Stay – stick around. Because I truly think, this time round, I'm the kind of man that desperately needs the company of a tiny brunette."

I almost laughed in indignation, thrown from seriously concerned to completely offended. When had he gone around from making this a foreboding topic to something completely outrageous?

"I am _not_ tiny, you're just obscenely tall – _Asshole_ ," I made a sound caught between a huff and a hiss, feeling the steam creep up my cheeks. "From my perspective, every version of you might as well be."

Droplets of silence hung in the air after that. There we stood, the two of us – just gazing into the empty street.

Before I heard him snicker.

What burst from his lips was a chortle, like he clearly thought our predicament was amusing.

And then, it was like a damn had given way. I snorted back – the sound cutting through the existing tension once and for all.

Before I even knew it – I don't know why, but, I found myself laughing. All of the sudden, I couldn't stop. My breath came in quick gasps between my unstoppable giggles. It was a laughter I could feel in my lungs, so hard that it took my breath away. The lack of oxygen didn't matter. All the stress of the past few days melted like snowballs in a microwave. This laughter created a small vacation, a blessed relief from all the distress that shoved its way into my brain.

And the Doctor – he was laughing too. He had a crooked little laugh to match his crooked smile. It was an odd sort of spluttering sound too, but I found it just as pleasing to the ears.

God, it wasn't even funny, but we had just cracked off like it was the most hilarious thing in the world. I suppose we just realised how stupid this all was – that and the ferociousness of my offense.

The silence that came next was comfortable, a thrum of dopamine rushing down my spine – making me snuggle my face closer into the warmth of the blanket I had on. I caught glimpse of the stars – endlessly bright and full of possibility. It was conflicting knowing that I could actually do something with that hope now – see the stars, if I wanted to. Like I'd always wanted to. With _him_.

Just as the beating thrum of my heart settled, I saw in my peripheral that the Doctor had turned to face me, watching with mischievous eyes and a steadfast posture. He held his hand out.

"Run away with me?"

 _Run away with him?_ _**Oh.**_

This was it.

He knew I wanted to leave, but he was asking me to stay – even though he probably thought I had no way to escape. It wasn't a question of if I could, but more a question of consent.

What suddenly hit me then was the sudden rush of sadness I felt _._ What could I say? _I was genuinely surprised._

 _Genuinely surprised that I wanted to stay, even if it was for a little while._

When I was with Amelia and River on the Byzantium, I had cared. Cared deeply for their safety – for them to make it out of there alive. With Rose on the Sycorax's ship, in a moment of pure humanity – she had stood up for me. We had laughed together too, like old friends. Despite my fondness for the specialness of these human beings, I was even more surprised at the fact that I wanted to hear more from the man who never seemed to shut up.

 _But I also wanted to see Jackson again._ To unlock the door to my rickety apartment, to see him waiting for me, to scoop him up and read him to sleep. A new book for every night of the week.

I tried giving the Doctor a look of understanding then. Not for him to believe I understood _his_ concern – but for him to see mine. I shook my head. "This is harder than it looks – putting everything I know on hold, to do this – and I don't think you understand that."

"Let's walk then, just for a bit," he tried, his hand unrelentlessly staying put. The ghost of a smile crept up his face. "Slow as you like. We don't need to run, the two of us."

I exhaled in complete awe of this man. He just made it all seem so easy, didn't he?

Although, judging from his sudden quick look to down the street – I realised. He didn't want me to make some grand choice. He literally wanted to walk somewhere with me – wherever to, I didn't know. But surprisingly, I trusted him not to make it boring.

"You sure you're alright with that?" I started with a waver, a hint of tease in my voice. "You don't need another sit down – do you, grandad?"

Then, with a grumble rumble of protest from the Doctor, I slipped my hand in his – long fingers wrapping around shorter, stubbier ones. I turned to see what I'd be walking away from – eyes moving to see Rose, arms crossed, watching Micky's retreating form as he left to go his own way home. She didn't look like she had any plans to go chase after him.

I suppose that was fine. I knew she would do something eventually, and that he'd go off to meet the fabulous Martha Jones – but still, it sucked seeing someone treated like garbage. Still, it was their business– and I felt like too much a stranger to do anything else.

As the Doctor led me down the snowy street, the Tyler estate growing smaller and smaller behind us, I looked up at the sky and realised – People just needed time.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh my god, almost 15,000 words – kill me. This took so many late nights to finish, so I'm sorry if some parts a bit wishy washy. I know a comment mentioned to have more dialogue exclusive to the Doctor and Fiona – and this chap was okay with that – but it's the next one I'm super excited for, as it's exclusively just them walking down London streets late at night. Wacky hijinks to ensue, I'm sure. Also, do absolutely please let me know if you spot some problems (spelling or lack of quality wise) in this chapter, as I did sort of rush it.**

 **Ok, so now's when I'll be addressing a lot of issues any reader might be having in understanding plot points, so tune in for that if you're interested.**

 **I wanna thank** _ **Nicole**_ **first – thanks for leaving another review btw! – She made some nice points I'd like to address. I'm happy you like the relationship between Rose and Fiona. I'm on the same boat as you, where I honestly hate love triangles and females hating over other females (it's fine if that's anyone's thing, but I don't at all enjoy it when girls drag each other down – esp. if it's over a guy). And plus, I love all the companions so much – they all bring something exciting, so why not use that to entertain** _ **instead**_ **of writing them in an OOC way, just for this story?**

 **Thank you so much for your questions about writing too – though I will admit you made me a tad nervous. I mostly write for fun – and to improve my English skills for my studies (since Eng isn't my first language). I try and write whenever I can, because it makes me feel nicer and more excited in general, when I do – but I do realise writing takes a lot of dedication (I had been a Doc Who fan for so many years – so this story was easier in that sense) – so unfortunately I find that I'm always tied up with other things (which is why I write so slow).  
Altho, for you – if you're stuck in writing, I'd suggest to read up on techniques and styles. I've found that tumblr is an excellent resource as there are so many writers who supply explanations on how to make your writing good (it's how, even if you compare this from chap.1, I feel like I've improved a bit).**

 **I'm currently still on the 3** **rd** **Doctor (I know, pls don't kill me), but I have been getting to watching episodes from all other Doctor's. I really do wish I had the time to just sit down and watch through everything chronologically, but for the sake of writing – i'm doing enough to fully understand the characters before I move on to the next.**

 **Social media wise, I don't have a twitter – sorry about that, but I'm super bad with this tech stuff. I have a tumblr, like I said (under the same name), but I have not posted anything on that in regards to this story. You can still follow me there if you'd like – since I do repost many writing hacks and tips you could use.**

 **Oh, and another special thanks to** _ **Sam**_ **– I couldn't agree more about the part with Rory – he should be everyone's dream guy, he's too precious. I definitely see Fiona getting ticked off at Amy about that too, so I'll definitely address that if I ever get around to it (you can see some of that here with Rose and Mickey too). Although, and please tell me if you hate this – I see some conflict arising with Donna? – I mean, comparatively, I see the redhead having some problems over the foreknowledge bit because of how deeply she cares – even though I don't see any of these relationships delving into pure hatred (because I've never really found pointless fighting and anger to be an interesting area of conflict).**

 **So many questions I don't know where to start (although thank you for the amazing feedback, so I know where readers stand). I totally get you want to know about things like the 'linear fashion' bit, how long the Doc's known her, when they met – but I also want to say that it wouldn't be a very exciting story if I just gave you all the answers now. Spoilers, right?**

 **I'll admit now though, that yes – I will most def include Classic Who episodes soon (as you've probably noticed she'll be travelling back now – older to younger reincarnations). Also, I imagine her aging is a bit like River (how in the Darillium Christmas special with 12, they address she's over 200 because of slowed aging) – I'll bring this up in the story with a proper explanation behind it eventually.**

 **Oh and I'd rather hang up my hat and stop writing now if I never planned on including Jack – maybe in an interesting little chapter with Nine? (I haven't actually seen Torchwood, but let me know if there are any special eps in that you'd like for me to include.)**

 _ **To EiraFae –**_ **Aw, I'm so sorry I made you feel that way! I honestly didn't want the story to feel exhausting, but I guess that'll be a given, based on realistically placing yourself in a situation like this (which I'm really trying to get down super accurate). The next chapter will absolutely be the gateway into Fiona accepting where she is – taking it a bit easy as she learns to enjoy life with the Doctor.**

 _ **To S02blom**_ **– I really like your analysis of the Lake Saiful Malook, and tbh you totally managed to see through my plans! While it doesn't have much to do with Gallifrey – I want to include the fairytale into this story by having these characters inspire it in some way. I can't give away much about it right now, but stay in tune for what might come from it.**

 **P.S – curse you** _ **TacoXI**_ **, because of you I had Twenty One Pilots stuck in my head for a whole week (jk, it was kind of a blessing, thank u).**


	12. Chapter 12 - I'll Be Home for Christmas

**Will We Meet Again?**

 **Chapter 12. I'll be home for Christmas**

* * *

 **Psst. There might be some swearing in these chapters, so I'm sorry (it just makes writing all the more exciting, in my humble opinion). It's not very bad – not enough to warrant an age rating change. P.S. I advise you read this chapter with some soft Christmas Music, or by the fire, or with a snowy sounds ambience playing in the back. Happy readings!**

* * *

 _May you never be too grown up to search the stars on Christmas Eve. You might just so happen to see a funny blue box fly by._

* * *

Under the moonlight the avenue lay still.

The air was like frozen lace on the skin – delicate and cold – like winter waves on sallow sand. Stars shone in the sky, like sugar spilt over black marble, glistening in the darkness.

And so it was that the two of us walked. The Doctor, in his new get-up, seemed surprisingly uncold – while it would've been completely impossible for me not to stay warm as well. Clothed in some of Rose's borrowed winter clothes, a thick wool scarf, a patterned blue quilt (courtesy of mama Tyler), and a paper crown (for the emotional comforting of my soul) – I was as snug as could be. Still, I tugged at the navel – Rose's limbs were a heck of a lot longer than mine sure, but she must like having her tummy out on display if this sweater was any indicator. She was like a beautiful belly-dancing goldfish; I just doubted whether _I_ could pull it off. Now that was one thing you didn't need a spoiler for – I couldn't.

I tugged at the strand of a bouncy black wave, moving it off of my cheek. Now that was another thing that would give me trauma if I spent too long worrying over it. The rat's nest of dark hair on my head had dried in that half-straight, half-curly way it did when you left it to dry unaided – as hair does unfortunately. Heavens knows how the Sycorax hadn't just fainted at the sight of me, I'll never understand.

I looked at the strand pointedly. _I grew you with my own unconscious desire, I raised you! How could you betray me like this?_

The strand of hair didn't respond.

Still, the funny, ill-fitting sweater and my obnoxious hair couldn't keep the content wonder off my face. Placed there by how terrifically odd I felt, doing what we were doing.

There we were, at eleven p.m on December the 25th, 2005, traipsing through the desolate streets of London – taking toward God's knew where. But surprisingly, the stillness made it feel like it didn't even matter.

We sauntered along calmly – The Doctor with an easy, slouched posture, his hands shoved in his pockets – and me, my arms crossed under my blanket, my hips rolling with each step – much like how a traditional desi auntie would walk _._ I paused. _Oh my god, I was still a young lass, how was it I was already turning into my mother?_ I thought wryly, correcting how I walked so I didn't turn into a shuffling penguin when I was older.

"You know, somewhere in the world, a five year old me's probably having the time of her life," I broke the pensive silence. It was the kind you'd fall into when you realised how pretty a night it was – wanting to appreciate the quiet for all it was worth.

Still, my mind flashed back to where I was in 2005 – a little older than a toddler. All I remembered of it were the pretty colours of baubles – the shining of fairy lights we'd get at the supply store. The power would go out so often in Pakistan that we'd try and make the most of what we had. With the lights of _all_ the neighbouring houses gone, people would move out to their open roofs, pulling out their _charpai's_ to watch the stars.

I had a huge family then. Hell, I practically knew all the kids in that little village I grew up in. The women of the neighbourhood would group together some nights too, combining all the ancient recipes they'd have passed down to them, to create something to share. Kids, parents, grandparents – tens of families, needing nothing more than good food and good hearts. It wasn't what most people considered a haven, a safe place, but it was to me.

But it didn't last, like most things. People moved away, _we_ moved away. Pakistan was a place that a logical mind would call desolate, unequal in opportunities provided. The rich only got richer there, where the poor got poorer. Unfortunately, I had been the latter.

I knew I gained a lot by coming to America – Mum wanted a better life for us once, after all. But I'd lost some too – _important things_ – that sense of community, trust, you only found with people you could call kin, even if you weren't blood.

I looked back at the Doctor, knowing that the past wasn't a place to dwell for too long. I laughed a small laugh, considering how odd the time shift was. "God, that's weird to think about. That I was a kid – _now_. Technically." My brain flicked back to the pink girl we'd just left, wondering if we'd still get on normally, if we'd been born in the same time. "That'd make Rose how much older...?"

"14 years," The Doctor filled in, smiling like an amused toddler.

"14 _years_ older?" I repeated, a thrum of rebellious excitement filling my veins. The feel of being so out of place in time – walking somewhere I'd never been before, through snow I'd never seen – was tripping me out. This must've been one of the many side-effects of travelling with the Doctor. "Oh, that is odd. That is mental. So, in my time – twenty-eighteen – she'd be thirty-two."

Oh, that was not good for the brain – imagining Rose as though she'd be old enough to be my aunt. I heard the Doctor hum in a wishy-washy manner, like it wasn't a big deal.

"Ah yes, generation Z," He started, nonchalant but slightly judgy, "I remember you lot – only thing more important than fussing over the way you look and your need to constantly keep starting wars about who can fancy who – being your iPhones."

"Oh? Well, I'm sorry we disrespect your delicate sensibilities, old man." I made a face at him. We were a great generation. We fought for equal rights, we were independent, we were kick-ass. I pulled out my smart phone then, making a big deal of touching the screen, looking at the Doctor worriedly, "Wouldn't you like me to call an ambulance for when your hip eventually gives way?"

He choked, "And to think you call _me_ 'Rude and not ginger'."

"Yes, primarily because it has a nice ring to it," I smiled at him, taking note to coin the phrase for future use. "And because it's true."

He scoffed lightly. "That phone of yours doesn't even work off-earth or outside time yet," He said, "So, if we were anywhere outside the realm of 2018, where these work solely before the next update comes along – I'd probably keel over and die at the hands of _avascular necrosis, years_ before your ambulance even got here."

"Did you truly just support the claim that you – the Doctor, clearly going through a mid-life crisis with how young you keep regenerating – are an old man at heart?" I gasped loudly, a perfect picture of what it was to be extra. "Someone get a camera, he's finally admitted to it."

"Oh shoo. Give me that," He snatched the phone off of me, my teasing having got to him.

" _Hey!_ Be careful with that!" I warned, almost tripping over the pavement as I tried getting my precious back. "Phones are expensive where I'm from, you know? So much so that if you fall and hear a crack, you pray to god it's your leg."

"You're exaggerating, love," He called me out easily, making me a tad guilty that it wasn't entirely a lie. That thing was three months worth of a salary for me, after all – and _still_ , I'd gotten it off eBay. He pulled out his sonic then, the blue end alight as he pointed it at the phone. "Now see, this might sound a little too technical for you, but with a little bit of kerfuffling here and there..."

I snickered, getting closer to see if he was actually doing anything. My mind flashed to him with Rose – on Platform One, where he did something similar. "Ah yes, how could I forget to expect anything less? Kerfuffling, Jiggery-pokery, a bit of hullabaloo here and there – perfectly sound tech speak. Ever consider tutoring? Lecturing?"

"I'd be too expensive for you. Or anyone for that matter," He spoke, the hint of a smile in his voice.

I rolled my eyes at his arrogance, my smile just as wide. "Oh, you really like yourself this time round, don't you?"

"Completely. I just saved planet Earth for the trillionth time, and yes I'm counting. Got this new mop of hair, goodbye big ears, and _apparently_ , I'm one hell of a shot," He paused in his sonicking, his head turning to look at me. I was so close to his shoulder, watching him work, that I reeled back a bit when he did – his tip of his nose nearly hitting mine. Still, he looked pleased with himself – entirely smug – brown eyes aglow. "What's not to like?"

Then, tossing the phone once in the air – simultaneously giving me a minor heart attack as he did – he handed it back, adorning a grin. "There you go. Now, if you ever need me, give us a ring from anywhere in the universe."

I paused from my awed viewing of the new superphone. "Why would I need you?" I looked at him slyly, feeling the sudden urge to make him uncomfortable. Payback for recklessly jeopardising the health of my device.

He looked to the floor, his hands returning to their allotted space in his pockets. "Just taking precautions."

But the Doctor's words were lost on me. Focusing, my mind wandered _. "Superphone,"_ I mumbled. _Of course._

A figurative light-bulb went off as I held the sleek metal in my hand, and so – acting on it – I turned the device on, brushing away flecks of frost as I did. At some point, the 'debris' from the ship must've eventually given way to pure snow – judging from the way it was getting slightly harder to walk through the rising layer of icing powder on the ground.

"What're you doing?" The Doctor quirked a brow, leaning sideways to try and get a look.

"A little bit of Googling," I told him, thrilled that somehow, he had managed to gift me the internet – it was unlimited too, making it abundantly clear to my brain that I now owed him my soul. I took to searching up the words 'Doctor Who' – following up a lead of sort, a small part of me still believing this was all a prank and I was being 'Punk'd' – only to come up with _... nothing._

There wasn't anything relevant to the show I had known. It didn't exist.

Well I suppose, in a way, it did. Only that I was living it instead. I rattled my brain, trying to think of the sciency mumbo jumbo I'd picked up from this show – looking for reasons how it all just magically disappeared. It had to be a parallel universe then, it just made sense, right?

But according to the Doctor himself – the links to different universes had always been closed.

"You could just ask me y'know? Whatever it is. Don't have to think till your brain turns to jelly," The Doctor's voice broke me out of the tangent my mind had spiralled into, his face knowing. I was going to ask how he knew, when he held out a pausing hand. "I know that face, your forehead gets all squishy and you get steam coming out your ears."

I was gonna scoff and say it didn't, when I realised – he was being _kind_. In a way. More open than I'd seen before, reasonable from how free and _new_ this version of him had been all day.

He caught on to my hesitant look. Then, with an easy smile, he threw his arms out triumphantly, like nothing I said could affect him. "Rattle off whatever you'd like. Anything."

I sneered at his snooty face.

 _Anything? Oh ok then, two could play at that game._

I looked at him with growing confidence, not knowing where to start. He looked like I could ask him anything, and judging by the look on his face, 'spoilers' didn't seem to be much an issue.

"How long have you known me?" I asked. _No time for beating around the bush._ "If you say you've seen me a couple dozen times, it'd give me an estimate for how long I'll be jumping around." I tried, keeping my real intentions veiled. What I really wanted to know was how long I'd stay before I'd reach the Pandorica and eventually have to leave him (if my theory was true and still worth a shot). Still, I lied, rolling with the idea that there still wasn't a way back. "You know, until I kick the bucket?"

"Now _that_ is confidential." He tapped his nose, earning him an unamused look. That seemed to have prompted what he said next. He spoke slower now, watching me for a response. "...But I can tell you that the light _might_ slow down your aging a tad. Augmented life cycle. Makes it so you age a bit slower than normal."

I came to a halt in the middle of the road, so sudden that I could almost hear one of those animated tire screeches.

" _What?_ I don't want to be immortal!" I shrieked. No offense Captain Jack, but the thought of living forever scared me more than the thought of dying tomorrow. I'd imagine life got boring after that long, among other things.

"Neither do I, but tis' the life of a time-traveller," The Doctor recited poetically, before seriousing down. He shrugged. "Eh, living forever's always seemed a bit dull. You aren't any more immortal than I am. A bullet still goes through skin, a cut-" He nodded down at my leg suddenly, cross-like, like he could tell I was hurt, even though I hadn't remembered him even looking, "-just the same. You still age, just slow. Exposure to the time vortex'll do that."

Huh, I suppose that worked in my advantage for the time being. I couldn't just find my way home one day and already be an old crone, now could I? How would Jackson remember me then? Sure, I could return to him the night I'd left, but it wouldn't be any good if everything wasn't the same.

If the time vortex was what was doing this, it made sense that when I left it – I'd start aging just the same. But there was no way I'd tell the time-lord that.

Hold up, had he said _'time vortex'?_

" _Time Vortex?"_ I turned to him. _As in the swirly, spacey passageway that the TARDIS would fly through in the title scene, back when this was a show?_ The same time vortex Rose must've taken in to become the 'Bad Wolf'? I looked to him, worried. "But how am I still alive after moving through it? I thought it burnt living things up."

It was like radiation, I remembered. It... destroyed the Ninth Doctor. He had to regenerate to save himself. No living thing could hold it.

The Doctors face grew tight then, serious like he didn't have an exact answer. "I've known things that can survive it. Reapers, Pantophagens, Time Roaches, Vortisaurs, guardians of time – list goes on."

"Okay, I think I know virtually none of those things... Maybe one," I tried, thinking of those winged beasts from hell – _reapers_ that caught onto Rose saving her Dad from passing. "The rest of them sound oddly contradictory. _Roaches_ and _Guardians of time_ lumped in the same category? Wow. Still, I'd buy _them_ being able to survive in it, not _me_."

I felt my skin crawl. So I'd really been flying through space-time whenever I jumped – It wasn't just a transport or a teleportation thingy. Despite the odd feeling that spurred in me from basically being able to operate like a TARDIS, except that I wasn't bigger on the inside (last time I'd checked), the explanation made this all feel just a bit realer somehow. Like I was actually beginning to see _how_ I operated through this world, and that I wasn't just some clueless anomaly.

"Yeah. I don't know how though, even after so many years..." The Doctor started vaguely, like he'd been given a new math equation to work on. He ran a hand through his hair. "The vortex wraps round you like a second skin, to take you to the next place. It protects you, but doesn't get close enough to burn. It wasn't like on Satellite 5 when you..."

He stopped, expression stuck, like he'd just caught himself doing something wrong.

"Like when I what?" I peered at him, suddenly conscious of how long he was pausing. "Doctor?"

My attention drifted away from the Time-lord and his stuck expression as we reached the end of the path we'd been walking down, alongside a couple of old, stone houses. Reaching the end of an alleyway, my nose perked up at the wafting scent of freshly baked Christmas cake coming from a neighbouring house. Although it smelt too strong to just be enough for one house, that and I swore I could hear carolling of some kind, far off in the distance.

" _Oh!"_ The Doctor shouted abruptly. His hands leapt up to tug at his hair in surprise, "I'm an idiot!"

I snorted, "You're realising this now?"

" _No, no, no_. I asked you along, remember? _Because I wanted to take you somewhere._ This one's a tad attention deficit, seems like, _"_ The Doctor rattled on, knocking on his forehead with a single knuckle, going from exasperated with himself to resolute in a matter of nanoseconds. He swiped his sleeve up suddenly, hand digging into a pocket as he retrieved something. It was an old, rusty pocket-watch. He inspected the time while I caught note of a gold embellishment on the latch.

' _To Theta'_ it said, some of the words scratched like it was quite aged. That was a nickname of his, wasn't it? I stared at it, a bit caught on how beautiful a trinket it was.

 _Hm, Rose must've gotten him that,_ I thought then, a bit sullen. I don't know why I felt that way; I guess it just reminded me that he had a life of his own, one that I had no authority to know about. He wasn't a character anymore, and I couldn't just peer into the secret affairs of his life like a ghost. I suppose being friends was what gave you that ability – but with the Doctor? I hadn't a clue where to stand.

There must've been more to it, the old watch, but the Doctor had already buzzed alive. With a sudden jolt in his soul, he latched onto my hand and, without warning, began to run, "We're not too late! Always time for questions later. _Come on!"_

He pulled me into a thin alleyway along one of the houses, trailing the way as if he knew it like the back of his hand. Despite the range of expletives and shouts of protest from me that followed shortly, understandably from nearly having my arm ripped off, the Doctor ran like the wind - pulling me along for the ride.

I tugged at his hand, already out of breath. "Slow down you fricking titan, I have littler legs than you!"

"Well, you should find some roller-skates and hold on. We don't have all night!" He laughed loud, sputtering, with a spark of excitement having lit up behind his eyes. My feet pounded the gravel with all the grace of a sack of wet concrete, while _he_ practically flew with each step – the insane man leading me off to wherever the source of that hazy cloud of light and music was, off in the distance.

* * *

"Ok, we are officially trespassing now," I looked at the Doctor sharply, him unconcerned as he went about, unlocking the gate with his sonic. " _Illegally_."

"Oh come on, a bit of tom-foolery never hurt anyone, eh?" The Doctor smiled mischievously. "Except whomever 'Tom' was. Must've gotten into hell of a lot of trouble to've had the word named after him."

The manic Time-lord had dragged me through a maze of streets, deciding to take a quick short-cut to wherever it was he wanted to go see. We were currently cutting in through what looked like an expensive little part of town, one that led past swanky, high-end apartments of sorts. We had run like the wind to get here, which in this case, was very, very cold, blistering wind. I wrapped my scarf tightly up to my nose, the heat from where it had been on my neck, transferring to my chilled face. I was panting still, my breaths coming in puffs of cold fog, where the Doctor looked like he'd just had a brisk evening walk.

"Why must he insist on adding mystique to everything he does? Why's he not yet gained the magical ability of straightforwardness?" I looked dismally towards the sky, dramatically asking God himself why the Doctor couldn't just tell me where it was we were going.

"Because it's a surprise! And also, it's just a passageway, Moore. It's not like we're breaking into anybody's flat," The Doctor spoke easily, though, seemingly amused by unrebelliousness. _Well wasn't that flattering, coming from a universally renowned renegade?_ It was like a senior in high-school laughing his ass off at the tiny, inexperienced freshman.

He smirked over his shoulder at me, chocolate orbs wide with rogue-ishness. "Never could resist a short-cut."

"Yeah well, you can tell that to the cops when they find you messing up public property," I looked at the big-ass lock his was fiddling with, disdainfully. I rolled my eyes, conceding. "Oh, who am I kidding? Messing about is right up there with breathing for you, it's that easy."

Sighing, I leaned up against the wall at his side, watching as he worked on with this intense look of concentration on his face. "What is this place anyway?"

" _Well,_ upon one of my many adventures around here– looking for traces of discarded auton matter last year – I happened to remember, with my rather tremendous memory, stumbling across a spot I wondered if you'd like."

"Me?" my eyes fell from their job as lookout, straight down to where he was working. "You wondered if _I'd_ like it?"

He shrugged with one shoulder, his eyes unbudging and stuck to his work. He'd taken on that look a few times tonight, but it was only now that I realised.

 _He was being careful with me._ Like he had a lot he could give away, but was holding back.

"'Course," His voice was neutral, and he spoke like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but still – I felt myself go. It was just a word but it staggered me with its weight.

Was this just what people did? To be nice. _Kind?_

I can't remember the last time someone thought I'd like something they'd have to show me. To say that something reminded them of me. I left behind everyone I knew who'd have done that, but even so, we were just kids back then.

This was the Doctor treating me like a friend, right? Like he knew me but was being careful not to give anything away. It would be like giving away the fact that you knew someone's birthday because you just so happened to internet stalk them prior to meeting them.

I smiled at him and his nonchalant expression, like I could see right through him – because obviously, who'd get given the chance to outsmart 'The Doctor' and then _not_ rub it in his face?

"Oh," I said, just as indifferently. Then, with an eyebrow quirked, I reached out and pulled the lock from his hand. _He'd been spending an awfully long time at it._ Pulling at it, just once, revealed that it was already unlocked.

I gave the man a look.

"How long ago did you break this open and've just been sat here talking?"

" _Doesn't matter,"_ The Doctor replied hastily, zooming up to creak open the heavy barrier. Then, like something had flipped entirely, the man looked down his nose at me – like he could've been talking to one of his many enemies instead of someone he'd just been joking around with. "Didn't I just say we were running late? Where are your time management skills off to, Moore? Why do I even keep you around when you can't do something as simple as keep time?"

And with that he was running through the gates, leaving me a perfect picture of stunned. _Where had that come from?_

It wasn't even a second past when that shock turned into red-faced outrage.

 _The nerve of that man... Now that was one way to warrant yourself a death wish._

I picked up my feet, ready to chase after the weasel, uncaring that I was going twice as fast as when he'd been dragging me along. I was _this_ close from catching him by the back of that stupid, dirt-coloured trench-coat, to give him a good pummelling of course, when I saw him run into what looked like an exit, his face concealed as all I could see was his back. Peculiar though, light was streaming in from the other side of where he'd ran into – but I was too pissed to care.

I stumbled out of the alleyway and into a large plaza.

"Oh, you arrogant, no-good, son of a–" _I paused_ , physically, mentally, hell – even spiritually. Wide-eyed, I looked. _"Wow."_

 _It was Christmas._ That's all I could register. _It was Christmas._ Everything you'd expect of it.

It was a large town square, with lights _everywhere_. Honey gold, soft rays, making the dark seem so much less cold. Fairy bulbs were wrapped on thin strings along each tree that lined the pavilion, and right at the centre was this huge fir tree that must've doubled my size three times over. Little stalls, the smell of them intoxicating, made the place feel that much more alive. People, couples, children staying up late – they were all out, many of them bustling around, from little shop to the next. What really made my heart go soft though, was that people were carrying around candles, cupped in their palms for warmth – it was either that or hot cups – hot chocolate, mulled cider, eggnog, pretty much whatever people drank on Christmas. All in all, it was a picture of what it meant to feel comfortable and happy you were alive to see it.

This wasn't the Christmas I had grown up with – but I was beginning to see why other people loved it so much.

And then I heard that sly, chortling laugh that made me decide I didn't need a candle for warmth like the people walking around. I was a whole goddamn furnace in and of myself.

I turned to see the tall man, doubled over next to a wall, like he'd been awaiting my arrival. His eyes were crinkled shut and his mouth upturned to where I could see all of his straight teeth _. Tigger indeed_. To think he was laughing away to his heart's content, _at me_ , and that with such a look of charm on his face I wanted to shove a snowball into it.

I stormed right up to him, my fist shooting up and grabbing a fistful of his collar. Even though I wasn't any stronger than a prawn, I must've made a believable image. I looked him in the eye, a dry smile pulling at my lips. _"I am going to murder you."_

"I am so sorry," He chuckled, his eyes glowing like he wasn't at all phased my malice. "Genuinely sorry, truly. Please, Moore – I was just trying to make fun. Add to the surprise and all." I gave him a stern look, to which he calmed down, his eyes going wide to look at me meaningfully.

"I didn't mean a word. You're one of the most capable people I know."

I narrowed my eyes at him, letting go of his shirt. "Well I suppose, if anything, a view like this was worth it." I smiled a bit, patting down the collar so that it was smoothened down again. "But trust me when I say you're getting a wad of snow down the back of your shirt, sometime completely unexpected so you won't see it coming."

He grinned back, "I wouldn't expect anything less."

We turned back towards the beautiful view he had brought us to. Even with my gaze fully directed towards the prettiness of the lights, I could feel the Doctor's eyes looking at me expectantly.

"Well, what'dya think?" He started, a glint to his voice. "Not bad, if I do say so myself."

"You were right. Surprisingly. I do indeed think I love this." I tried concealing my beaming. _"It's insane."_

"No, the concept of time travel is insane – to you humans at least. _This_ is a marvel," He gibed, his voice turning reminiscent, like he was once again remembering all it was he loved about human beings. " _Humanity at its finest._ Not sculpting monuments or going to the moon, not the Olympics or climbing Mt. Everest. Just this. A little nook in the heart of London, with pretty trees and happy people."

I laughed. "While a lot of those things _are_ important – and god, don't just write them off – I'd have to agree with you this time," I looked back at him, not really able to wipe the smile off my face. "You really are something, aren't you Doctor?"

"Well, I'd hope so," He smirked, swaggering ahead a few steps, till he was right in front of me. "New me must be doing spectacularly, getting a response like that out've you."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Let's say it's not a failing grade."

"A little over 50 percent?" He looked hopeful, brown eyes teasing.

 _Oh please,_ I wanted to say. Him and I both knew he'd long since passed with flying colours. Every version of the Doctor was exactly who they were supposed to be, it just made me a bit sad he didn't see it that same way sometimes.

I smiled up at him, a little warmer for some reason. "Yeah. A little over 50."

And then, a chorus of gasps lit up the square.

The Doctor and I both turned to look back, seeing that the large fir that stood stationed at the centre was now alight. Like a torch of colour, billions of multicoloured baubles were now shining.

" _Holy crap, lookit that!"_ I cried, clapping my hands along with the crowd like a kid high on adrenaline. I'm sure the cheers could've been heard from miles around.

" _12 o'clock."_ I turned away from the scene of the Christmas market, taking my lingering gaze off of the enormous Christmas tree adorned with glistening ornaments and glowing fairy lights, to see the Doctor peering back into that pocket watch of his'. He turned back to me, an eyebrow tilted like he'd just had an idea.

"While it's tempting – just standing around here and all – I imagine it'd be a touch more exciting actually going along with the masses," He nodded up at the stalls. Then, pulling a hand out from one of his pockets, he held it out to me, brown orbs holding that famous look of theirs – like he was promising me an adventure."Shall we? Do what the normal people do for once?"

"I don't think that word ever could, or will, apply to you," I shot back, all smiles. Without waiting a second longer, I grabbed onto his arm and almost tugged him off his feet.

Leaving our spot alongside the entrance of the alleyway, we joined the people swarming around the area. Walking along, hand-in-hand with the Doctor, I caught sight of how the amber light of the street lamps spilled on the stone-paved streets as we passed by shops. In turn, the elegantly decorated, wooden stalls slowly revealed their hidden wonders attracting long queues of bustling customers. The festively designed stalls, illuminated with blinking Christmas lights, vibrant ornaments and brightly coloured signs, were lined up along either side of the street and had varieties of delectable treats, jasmine scented fragrances, skilfully hand-crafted greeting cards and unlimited choices of gifts to customers occupied for endless periods of time. The warm smiles of the people behind the stalls as they tossed freshly roasted, golden brown chestnuts into paper cones or carefully poured creamy hot chocolate into mugs and added generous layers of whipped cream, was returned by the beaming grins of the children who were eagerly waiting to get their mug. The energetic youngsters giggling at their creamy chocolate moustaches were followed soon after. The loud, spirited laughter of adults could be heard over the continuous chatter surrounding the vivacious atmosphere.

As we walked, I caught sight of a brilliant little stall just a little ways off the large Christmas tree that decorated the centre. Coming to a stop, I must've looked like a complete nutter – taking in a deep lungful of the warm air coming from the small shop. The aroma seemed like the most delightful blend of cloves and cinnamon, with a dash of something sugary.

 _Damn, if only I'd brought some money with me,_ I sighed internally. My satchel was back on the TARDIS, where I'd left it in 'my' room. I hadn't unpacked whatever had to have been in there yet, but there must've been a few dollars worth for me to snag one of whatever was making that smell.

The Doctor watched, bewildered, as I took a deep breath of the spiced air. I mustn't have even realised how long I'd been paused when he nudged me once, garnering my attention before he gave a questioning nod over to the booth, an amused glint to his eye.

"What?" I looked at his face once before feeling immediately regretful, knowing that look quite well. Anyone who knew anything about a Pakistani tradish, knew how much it was we hated having people pay for us. I remembered how, back in the old country, every-time you offered to pay; you had to be ready to engage in a round of verbal fisticuffs, like some kind of polite match to the death – with each player matching an "I've got it this time, let me pay for you," or a "Sit your ass down and tuck away that wallet, Ayesha, otherwise you'll be paying for that from your pocket of your rotting corpse."

I psshed nonchalantly, hoping to god the Doctor and his physic minding-reading powers _(I knew he had them, I was onto that weirdo)_ didn't notice the fear in my eyes, "Nah, it's alright. Let's walk around and look at all the lights instead."

I turned to go, content that that was that. Except that, even with my first step off the ground, I had to do a double-take to the side to realise the Doctor wasn't there anymore.

"Oh motherfuck," I clasped a hand on to pry my lips shut, realising far too late that a bunch of tiny youngins were still in ridiculously close proximity to me and my foul mouth. Still, my eyes buzzed over to the stall to catch a glimpse of the Time-lord, already making his way back to me – two cups of the strange liquid in his hands.

"There," He passed the warm paper cup into my hand, looking unusually happy to do so. He answered my questioning stare next. "Since I bet you wouldn't've stopped drooling if I hadn't."

I fought with myself, wanting to punch him in the shoulder and shove of wad of the non-existent money I had, back into his hands so that I didn't owe him a cent. Still I found myself making a pained face of disbelief instead, " _You_ actually have money?"

 _Since when?_ I wanted to say. I was under the impression that all he carried around was his sonic, his psychic paper, the occasional magnifying glass, and maybe some spare change of whatever alien currency he happened to have about.

"I'll have you know, I'm not a hippie with flowers in my hair," He held out a finger like he was trying to prove a point. "I don't just walk about with nothing but my wits on me."

I laughed then, my drink nearly spilling. The image of the Doctor with long flowing locks and pansies twisted into them was just too fricking hilarious not to have an intense physical reaction over.

"Well, it must be a Christmas miracle," I smiled, my eyes watering from the sudden rush of steam emanating from the cup. I sobered up then, deciding that I'd pay him back the second I got my hands on some money. "Thank you, doctor."

The Doctor made a vague gesture half-ways between a shrug and a 'Fuhgettaboutit', and that was that. The next thing I knew, we were back into the crowd and I was trying not to choke on what tasted like an actual 'Harry Potter' concoction. It was what I imagined 'Fire-whisky' _had_ _to have_ tasted like.

 _Was this wine?_

I stared down at the cup with unfathomable betrayal, not at the Doctor for getting it, but at the seemingly unassuming liquid that looked no different from a nice juice. I'd never had a _drink_ -drink before, but I was guessing this was what the mature, alcohol-consuming adults called 'mulled wine'. It was heady and runny, but made me wanna cough in a way where it reminded me of drinking in a puff of smoke.

I felt a rush of shame. I always thought I was a good noodle that didn't go around breaking the rules. But that's when I remembered – and considered – I was 18 now, and that was the legal drinking age in most places, right? I suppose there was no time like the present for a first like this. I took another calculated sip, feeling the warmth settle in my bones. _When in Rome..._

"I realise I wasn't in the right headspace when we talked on the TARDIS yesterday."

I turned to look at the Doctor, an eyebrow quirked in interest. He still hadn't touched his drink, but he had his head hung as he watched the ground, like he had a lot to say.

"Ah, when you almost murdered us because you never got a license?" I smiled at him, realising what he was onto. He must be embarrassed about whatever was said when he was half-ways out've his mind.

"Don't need one, _I never will_ ," He replied to my jab with utmost confidence, "Anyway, my point is that I might've said things that were slightly spoiler-ish." He rubbed at the back of his neck, like he was actually worried, "Would it be incredibly rude to ask you to forget whatever it was you heard?"

I must've looked as confused as I felt. What was he talking about?

My mind delved back to when he was stumbling over his words, half fallen over the TARDIS console. That had to have been the only time he must've said anything 'slightly spoiler-y', which would've been great for me if only I could've made out a word of what he said. It had sounded though, with a few of the words I caught on to, that he'd mentioned a red planet of sorts. Had he been talking about Gallifrey?

I sighed then, realising that I'd missed an opportunity to learn more about the man. I rolled my eyes, a half-hearted cover-up, "Oh please, as if I could make out a word of what you said through all that slurring."

"I do not slur," He scoffed as he gave me a pointed look, relieved, his accent making him sound a tiny bit slurry – or was that just me feeling weird? I felt enough like myself, but also kind of like the colours around me were shinier.

I was walking easier now, the crowd having dispersed a little because of the spiral into past midnight, when the Doctor finally took one large gulp of his cup. That was before he immediately spat the drink back out, his eyebrows crossed crossly. I gave him a funny look as he stiffened for a second, before he tossed it into a nearby bin. How could I forget? He never really had a taste for alcohol, had he?

But what really shocked me was him taking my own cup. When he looked into it, his face overwrought with regret, it gave me pause.

"I'm not a kid, y'know?" I crossed my arms, ready to defend myself. The look in his eyes was obviously that of a disapproving geezer. "I can drink just fine now. It's not 'stunting my growth' or whatever it is they warn you about in school."

He gave me a sardonic smile. "Yeah? Tell yourself that in a few hours, I don't think you'll be so ready to agree then."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I looked at him, a mix of confused offence.

"Alcohol paired with the notion of travelling through the space-time continuum unguarded – it isn't a very pleasant experience, love." He warned, looking slightly remorseful for me. Like when you see a guy get kicked in the nuts and just be grateful you're not him – because somehow, even as a young female, I can still relate to that.

I gave him an outlandish look for that, because why was he looking at me like that?

He winced, "You'll be seeing, unfortunately. I'm sorry about that."

"Yeah, like that's not foreboding at all," I said after a moments silence, not really feeling anything all that peculiar – at least, not to the extent of the look he was giving me. I found myself turning slightly snappy in response, "You might want to stop looking at me like that doc, unless you're planning on turning into the next Scrooge."

He rolled his eyes.

"Bah, Humbug," He said, half-heartedly if anything.

His eyes had turned somewhat veiled, and I couldn't, for the life of me, tell what for.

Every time he acted like he cared about me, he'd always go sullen when I asked him what for. Like I wasn't reacting in a way which he wanted me to.

I didn't like it in the slightest. I just felt such a rush of uncomfortableness from what felt was a gap. Maybe it was because I didn't know him all that well.

"Why don't you tell me something about yourself?" I started in a sudden voice, like I was suggesting a game. I cringed, embarrassed by how abrupt that was, but still, I looked to him inquisitively. "How are you feeling, Doctor? You know, with the whole..." I gestured to all of him, curious about his new self.

"Good, _perfect_. Don't really feel like going into another coma, if that's what you mean," He bounced back slightly after a seconds pause, almost like he was grateful to have his mind taken off whatever was making him distanced.

"Well, that's swell – but, what about the... regeneration?" I decided to just lay it out. I normally find that most stupid problems in the world are fixed by just deciding to be as straightforward as possible. I wanted the Doc to see I was someone he didn't need to keep secrets from, even if that _was_ what he was known for. I wanted to know how he felt, help see all the new things that made this version who he was.

I watched his face turn into one of hesitance. He clearly wasn't in the mood to tell, but I could see he still felt he had to.

I looked up at him, my voice as kind as I feared it could get. "You can tell me. I feel like I'd get it. But if you don't want to, that's fine too."

He looked surprised, eyes completely wide, but not for the reasons I thought. He seemed like he was falling even deeper into his pensive state.

"The man I was before, I don't know how to tell you this," The Doctor started, his voice scratchy. He shut his eyes. _"He's dead."_

The Doctor's words, blunt and unfeeling, stripped any air from my lungs.

 _He must have taken my question in offense._

Like he thought I wished I was seeing the Ninth version of him instead of who I was standing with right now.

 _This was a mistake._

What he said next made my stomach curl. Wearing a wretched face, he spit the words. "And I'm sorry, but I'm happy he is."

I looked up at him and all at once, he wasn't _here_ anymore. Something in his gaze had changed, and it was like a vault had given way to where he accidently started to leak away a secret. And if _anyone_ knew _anything_ about the Doctor, it was that he never told anyone his secrets.

 _Where did this come from?_ I couldn't say. My lips felt like an invisible force had glued them shut.

I had barely even registered the fact that he'd walked us into another alleyway, narrower than the last. The darker street was hidden from all the pretty lights, the people walking past with smiles on their faces, while the Doctor wore the opposite of one – standing what only could've been half than a foot's worth in front of me.

The world felt like it could go on forever and never find us there, but it wasn't as happy and not nearly as romantic as it sounded.

"Who I was before – he wasn't who I should've been. Not with you," The Doctor continued, the blank face twinging with a hint of regret. He turned then, back to me – like that small twinge of feeling reminded him that he was a different man now. "But you helped me, y'know? Things got better eventually, and now. _This_. This is who I'm supposed to be. I feel it in my bones."

I looked at him, my soul affronted. I didn't even know how it was I felt so offended over him and his feelings about _his_ life, but I did. I was speaking before I could get myself into line – because, after all, what did he care what _I_ had to say?

"Don't say that. Not ever. I get that you like this new version of yourself, Doctor, and I won't lie – I get why you do." I started. My voice was wobbly with an unprecedented onslaught of emotion, and suddenly, I wasn't just some chick who'd been living a fairy-tale fantasy full of time-lords and blue boxes. Instead, I was back to being that little girl who watched a show, caring very much about the main character – a silly man who stayed kind, first and foremost, regardless of what version of him it was.

I knew how much he liked being him, this Doctor. But god did it upset me thinking about it. He'd been born out of love. The love he felt for Rose. He never would have had that if it wasn't for who he was once. Nine was just as amazing, just as _deserving_ – and I would not see the same man talk down to himself like that.

" _I understand you._ But every reincarnation of you is worth it. Every version of you is just as real and just as _good_ as the last. Now that's something that never changes. And if it does someday, and somehow you turn into a total scumbag that goes round popping kids' balloons, or stealing old ladies' purses – that'll be the only way I could ever think of you as less."

A second went by. And then another.

It felt like each passing minute was being carved into my skin as I watched the Doctor. His face had gone pallid, void of the rage – the feelings that bordered crazed almost. His eyes were the saddest part. They'd been so unlike themselves when he was speaking.

You can imagine my relief when I thought I saw something akin to sunglow return to them.

He gulped, moving back like he had just realised he'd pushed us into a place where we were forced to be close. His hand went to his neck, he looked away, like he was aware that he had lost himself. I hadn't a clue what effect my words must have had on him.

He looked me in the eyes then, and quite suddenly, his face was full of life again. Of that kindness that made him who he was. "Fiona Moore, I swear to you, from this day on, you have my complete permission to slap me if I ever get like that again," He spoke, disbelieving of himself. _"I'm sorry."_

I felt my knees shake with relief, so worried that he'd turn into something else. Like he had done once in 'the Waters of Mars." It was difficult to accept, but I'd been afraid. Scared _for_ him. I never had to deal with a darkness, not as strong as the kind I knew he had; trapped away in his head.

Shit, why was it that I felt the same way now that I did when the Sycorax leader almost turned me into a pile of bones?

It was because of him. _That bastard._ He got me caring about him.

The weaker side of me almost wanted to hug him, like it was what I should've done now that he was his wonderful self again. But we weren't on the Byzantium this time, and I wouldn't have had an excuse for actually giving a crap about him.

And I wasn't in any mood to see the smug smile on his face when I told him I thought of him as a friend. That I thought I could trust him whole-heartedly. Long ways since we were trapped in that dead-end in the Byzantium, eh?

" _Well."_ My voice was a mix of a sigh, a sob, and a laugh. "I'm g-glad you've got some sense back. You're really nothing without it, you know?"

I put on my best grin, but he wasn't having it. He smiled then, so, so sadly – all lopsided and bittersweet. He looked guilt-stricken.

I wanted to ask him why, when shockingly, he confused me even further. He reclaimed the space he'd created from when he'd moved back, closing the distance between us.

His arms went to rest around my upper back and I could feel the strength in them, pulling me into the folds of his arms. I could feel the life in him, the blood pumping in his veins, and the warm breath coming off his lips. Even with several layers separating us, the cold made it impossible not to.

Despite the heat, I froze. _Well ain't this just a progressive series of unexpected events?_

Wasn't it funny? It was something so freaking simple, just putting you your arms over another person – a completely evolutionary, mammalian thing to do with sharing warmth.

All that and still, my heart had begun beating away like a humming-bird trapped in a box with no exit.

This wasn't out of character, was it? With Ten and Eleven – they were both the young, touchy types that went around grabbing hold of whomever they could get their hands on, right? I just needed to calm down and realise he was being what he always intended; _kind. Nothing more._

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm an idiot," He sighed and I almost flinched at how close his voice was. "An idiot that keeps forgetting how out of your depth you are."

I stiffened, remembering. That had sounded an awful lot like pity, something I had no patience for. "I'm fine. You don't have to feel bad for me."

"Darling, you've got to get a tad better at the art of lying if you've decided to keep doing it. You're not fine, not any more than I deserve you putting up with me."

I couldn't look at him, not like this. This was all too mushy for me – it didn't settle right. How could you just take a girl who'd never been treated this... warmly before, and just shove her in the path of a time-lord who couldn't stop giving it to her? I was like a freaking caterpillar. He was the whole garden.

I pushed at him, not roughly like I had when we'd first met. I did my best to ignore the blush in my cheeks. "Ok, you've made your point. It's all good. Sunshine and pancakes all round."

His brown eyes were just as cautious, just as sorry. "You're sure?" He asked.

I met his eyes and smiled. I'm sure it conveyed what I felt. _There's no beef between us, doc._

"Yes. I'm sure, you old fossil," I replied wryly, an idea sparking that'd show him I really was better. I gave him a prodding look, adventurous like the one he normally wore. "Now, are we just going to stand around in this dank alleyway, or did you have somewhere else to show me?"

I watched as a small smile made its way back to his face. It really was the expression that suited him best. "I think I might have just the thing in mind."

* * *

"Doctor, _don't,"_ I hissed.

"Oh come on. Let's have a bit of a gander," He dismissed, hopping over the short fence, easily with his spidery legs.

The walk away from the midnight festival had me feeling much more at ease with the Doctor than I'd been before – It was safe to say I surprised myself with that. Surprised myself with how comfortable I was just walking with him, the cold seeming like distant afterthought as we kept throwing jab after jab at each other – smiling like loons as we walked along, snow crunching under our shoes. Each joke so stupid, they were brilliant – even though the buzz from that drink had died down.

I suppose it wasn't too much of a surprise when that time eventually died a sudden and untimely death.

I swore under my breath, following the man who'd left me for whatever laid on the other side of the fence that harboured a terrace of brambles. I hopped it too, my jeans catching on the thorns, only to see that he'd brought us along to a children's park of sorts. The Doctor was leisurely floating on one of the swings, wearing a look that could've said he'd taken me to see the Pyramids – a complete 'told you it was worth it' look.

"Not bad. Though, I can tell you that this wasn't what I was expecting a trip to modern day London'd be like," I said, approaching him and taking a seat on the other swing, next to him. "Always did wonder why it was your favourite."

"What _were_ you expecting then?" He asked. "For the first person you met to shout _'tea'_ in your face?"

I laughed, filling up the empty park. "Something along those lines. Maybe more like I'd see people with their noses upturned, scoffing at the sight of an *gasp* American. Stupid, I know, but it's what I'd see in the cartoons."

The Doctor rolled his eyes, "Well, luckily enough to your psyche, you won't have to be relying on what you've watched on the telly anymore. You can see whatever you want here, if the TARDIS's feeling kind enough to take you."

" _Doctor."_ The amused look fell from my face as I warned him. I felt like I knew where this was going.

"What? Can you blame me at all?" He turned sombre, eyes lightening in shade.

"I still..." I tried, "I still don't know a damned thing about you."

"Yes, you do, you're just being daft," He shot back snappily, stopping his swinging. "I'm the Doctor. I'm 903 years old. I'm from the planet Gallifrey, in the constellation of Kasterborous." He hesitated a second. "I ran away from my home when I was much, much younger. Most of me regrets never going back, even to visit – but still, I'd never take it back."

"Why-why're you telling me this?" I stopped swinging too, my voice meek. He'd never talk like this to anyone on the show.

"Because despite everything I can't tell you – you are so very dear to me, and I can't have you walking around not knowing that," The Doctor stunned me with his words, his hands moving to his neck where he pulled out a single strand of thin rope. Getting up, he walked a step with something cradled in his hand. "This is yours."

He placed something in the palm of my hand. A key – rusty, old, unassuming. It made me want to cry. I definitely wasn't some nobody, not if he was giving me a key to the ship. A key to his dearest thing.

I looked up at him.

He smiled back, caught, between happy and sad. "Despite everything, you always have a home on the TARDIS."

A second passed where I felt the weight of what he said hit me. I could feel the hairs on my body raise as the cold wind hit my face as I sat still. Starlight drew my eyes heaven-bound; the white-light shining all the brighter for the blackness around.

"I've always wanted to see them, y'know? The stars. _Those stars_ ," I whispered. I hated the fullness of emotion in my voice. "Always thought I was born too early. Centuries before humanity ever got around to it."

He looked up at them with me.

"They don't seem all that far away anymore, do they?" The Doctor bent down in front of me, one knee in the snow. "That's how I felt. When I saw the TARDIS for the first time."

I felt a bigger pang at that. I rested my elbows on my knees, clutching my forehead.

"I'm selfish. Why's it feel like I'm giving something up?" I felt my breath hitch. "Like I'm losing something if I decide to just stay and actually enjoy myself, instead of worrying over what Jackson's doing and if mum's taking care of him."

"You never give up on family," The Doctor shot me a sympathetic look. He patted one of my elbows, prompting me to look up at him, "It's why I'm so adamant about you staying put."

Despite it all, I wanted to laugh at that. I knew the Doctor thought of his companions as family, but this was pushing it. He normally let them go if they ever wanted to go home. Still, I guess I could see what he meant though – Rose, Martha, Donna, Amy, Clara - he wouldn't want any of them to leave.

"Weirdo," I sighed, a small smile tugging at my lips. I couldn't just lie anymore. I wanted to do it – run away, just like he'd asked. Until the Pandorica, I wanted to run with the Doctor.

I took a deep breath. Deeper than any I felt I'd taken.

I worked to support my family, day in and day out. I moved, left behind everything and everyone I knew to support them – so that Jack could have a better life. I watched kids my age walk around with their loves, living in a way they'd miss forever when they were older and withered. I have read book after book, page and page, of adventures – of heartbreak, joy, misery – stories that made me cry. I read through all of them, only to be sad at the end when I realised I'd never come half as close to living as brilliantly.

I deserved to do something for me, for once.

I deserved to live.

"Let's do it," I looked at him, finally giving in. Finally answering him. "Let's go see those stars. If you'll have me, of course."

He beamed, the shine in his eyes blending in amongst the backdrop of lighthouses painted up in the sky.

"You never need to ask that, love."

I gave him somewhat of a bashful smile, still with the slight twinge of the past on my mind. I moved forward, getting up off the swing.

"What are you to me, Doctor?" I asked, quelling the need to ask him what I'd been wondering for the longest time. Call me old-fashioned, but I preferred a label every now and then.

"Oh I don't know. What _do_ you call it when two souls get along fairly well with the other?" He played along, the intonation of a joke in his voice. He shot me a look as he leaned up against one of the metal beams of the swing-set, "Friends?"

I shot him a glare. A rumble of protest ringing in my throat as I decided – I'd never let him win as long as he had that smug smile on his face. I looked at him slyly. "How about, 'Very, very temporary business partners'? You take me spelunking in space and I pay you back with the pleasure of my company."

"Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, that." He smiled dubiously.

I sighed. "Fine then. 'Extremely hesitant confidantes'?"

He looked completely undeterred. Instead of withering like I half-hoped he would, he just hummed thoughtfully – before smiling easily. "I'll take it."

That's when he straightened out, coming to his full height and towering over me once again – coming closer as he did. He stuck out a hand, his eyes holding "Well, here's to the beginning of a long and happy very, very hesitant friendship."

I shook my head lightly, lifting my hand up to meet his, before I paused.

It was glowing white.

"So soon?" The Doctor smiled sadly, his hand dropping.

"Proof to show you've got horrible time management skills," I said sarcastically. "I've been here a whole two days, doc. That's a new record for me."

He scoffed, eyebrows innocent and unjoking. "Well yeah, but I've been unconscious for most of it. So it doesn't count."

"My god," I uttered under my breath, mostly out of exasperation. He was impossibly full of himself, but I couldn't find it in me to think it off-putting. I looked back at him, a tired smile as I spoke. Quite the adventure indeed, I was bone-dead tired. I gave him a two finger salute, the pain from the time vortex only feeling like pins and needles at this point. "I'll see you around, Doctor."

" _À la prochaine."_ He said charmingly, before he immediately furrowed his eyebrows. Rolling his tongue experimentally, he repeated the foreign phrase. His voice squeaked, "Oh, was that French?"

I barked a laugh. Looking at him happily, I left him with a final thought, "I think I like it. Keep it."

The Doctor's face, young and excited, slowly filtered away from my vision into the familiar harshness of the light. Holding my arms over my eyes to shield them from large beams of white, I stumbled before I felt a set of cotton cladded arms steady me by the waist. Taking control of my movements, I met the eyes of none other than the slightly younger, poofier-haired, ocean-eyed version of the man I'd just been with.

 _Was that the Eight Doctor, or did my eyes deceive me?_

"My dear?"

His eyes, growing hazier by the second, were kind. I think I could make out a smile.

"If you went falling about every time you came in, I'd be keen to design a stasis field for you. Might do a better job of keeping you on your toes."

I laughed once. Apparently he was just as witty as they came. That was my last thought before I was snuffed out like a light.

.

* * *

.

 **Charpai:** A traditional Pakistani bed that's made from wood and woven wicker. For most the year it's pretty hot in Pakistan, so most people who aren't very well off (living in more rural areas) literally only sleep on these under the open sky. If you look it up, it's not as uncomfy as it looks.

 **Desi** : Traditional in a very Pakistani/Indian sort of way. Someone heavily shaped by that culture, or who comes from a family that upholds those values.

 **À la prochaine (** _Ah la prosh-enne): '_ _Until next time/See you next time' in French._

* * *

 **A/N: Nyello! Ugh, so much fluff, I h8 it. While normally I freaking love the 'pointless' back and forth bits, I found it hard trying to make this super interesting –I tried to incorporate important things like the phone-fixing and the TARIS key gift. I also tried really hard to write 10 in a way that got him down par, so I really wonder whether you guys will like this (don't sue me if you don't).**

 **I know some ppl traditionally really don't like bits that kilter off course, but scenes like these are genuinely super enjoyable for me.**

 **Btw: À la prochaine (** _Ah la prosh-enne_ ) means "until next time" or "see you next time" in French. Now I don't know a lick about French, but I opted for using this instead of the traditional 'Au revoir' because apparently, you use this when you're unsure of when you're going to see the other person again – And if that isn't heartbreaking to you, given the context and how you secretly get the vibe that he worries over not seeing her again, then you must be stuffed full of those Styrofoam peanuts they fill to take up space in cardboard boxes (I'm sorry, it's four in the morning and I feel incredibly hateful in general – I hope the Slytherin humour isn't too much for you guys).

Special: Also, for those who have just recently joined aboard this story, please know that I don't update on a weekly basis, as I'm quite busy and these chapters do take a long time to write. The only reason I was on a roll before this was due to summer break, but life as a student is pretty hard. I write more or less depending on where I am, on these terms, so please be patient if I do drop off for a month or two (maybe more, idk).

* * *

 _ **Ooo, guess what? It's review appreciation time, hold on tight ladies and gentlemen.**_

 _ **Alikai**_ , thank you so much for your brilliant comment. I was smiling the whole way reading it, because of how well thought out it was – and as a complete nerd of the show, I agreed with literally everything you said too. I was crying tears of joy when u said I got the Doctor's voice down, because I don't even know what I'm doing with that (just spitballing tbh) – I hope the angst in this chapter wasn't overkill though. I really love Melody with a passion too – not just River 'sweetie' song (it makes perfect sense) – so I'm looking forward on expanding on her relationship with Fiona (tho, I'm biased because I love all the companions, and it stresses me out that I probably won't cover all of them).

 **Finally, thank you so much for reminding me of the Donna situation.** I love the temp, and I'd hate to see her written poorly – and I hundred percent agree with what you said about the lesson she learns. I think I'm really just caught up, trying to think of a point of conflict to make Fiona rethink her powers (as at least a few ppl have suggested I do that).

I reckon her opposition could shine through sometimes. Like in 'The Runaway Bride' or 'Partner's in crime', it just needs to happen once. Also, I think, where the Doctor tries to stop bad things from happening – Donna would feel a lot more against the foreknowledge bit because there's something that can be done to save people immediately and not cause problems by time-travelling and redoing things (like when ppl are trying to escape during Pompeii). Do let me know what your thoughts are on that (if it makes any sense, it's a bit of a ramble).

 _ **Sam –**_ Thank you for reviewing again dude, consistent reviews are so appreciated. I like that you brought up Mickey, although I was fairly sure that the part about everyone thinking he murdered her came in the Slitheen episodes with 9. I do really love the gang from this time – and would love to explore Mickey's character – although there's a lot to see throughout all the seasons, so who knows? About your advice where the Doctor kisses her, or if a companion alludes to smthing – I'm a bit iffy on that. Mainly because it's been done before, and because I once read that **if you have to include a kiss scene to** _ **prove**_ **that someone is in love, you're not writing a believable romance (while it will come eventually, I want it to firstly be reflected in their friendship). Also, I reckon that after so many years, the Doctor would be a bit more careful than to let it slip so haphazardly.**

Can I tell you how much I appreciated the note that you're Brit-Pakistani (Because honestly, how cool is that? – speaking as someone from the other side of the world). I really want to include a lot of cultural elements (I sort of did with the 'charpai') but I also don't want to alienate people who aren't familiar with the culture. I'm sure I'll work around to make it inclusive for all features, and thank you for the suggestion (esp. the Pakistani cooking thing!)

Another thank you to _**S02blom –**_ You were completely on the ball with the park thing, congrats! Tho, I wanted to scale up a bit and make a cool, secret festival (which I hope is just as good?) I rlly kinda like the kiss suggestion, but I also don't :( - as I said in the last comment. (I bolded that part out for you). Sorry, but I swear what I've planned will be even better than _"Surprise! I have feelings for you that I've suddenly sprung on you without checking to see if you're cool with it!"_

Thank you **Eirafae** – that's so lovely of you to say. Always lets me know I'm on the right track.

 **Bored411 –** Thanks for the comments dude, even tho I'm not sure about mood shifts (I know it might be mostly due to inconsistencies as the writer, as I tend to ramble and write too long). Still, I'm grateful that you still like it.

 **V –** THANK YOU SO MUCH YOUR READERSHIP IS GREATLY APPRECIATED.

Until next time folks!


	13. Chapter 13 - Old-fashioned

**Will We Meet Again?**

 **Chapter 13. Old-fashioned**

* * *

 _She never thought she deserved it. Josie._

 _Josie was chipped nail polish on chewed finger nails. She was fidgeting and pinching skin to calm down. She was light summer dresses that were always a bit too washed out. She was scuffed shoes and worn shoelaces. She was uneven dimples and downcast eyes. She was the loneliness she'd feel standing alone in the corner of the classroom._

 _She wasn't much._

 _The soldier loved her anyway._

 _To him, she was the sun. A soft milky blue – like the sky she wished to explore someday. To him, she was the sound of fluttering wings and the crunching of soft grass under your boot. To him, she was the taste of cold peach tea on a hot summer day. To him, she was secretive smiles and genuine eyes. To him, she was feather-light touches and smooth skin. To him, she was the lingering feeling of heat after you had just kissed the love of your life._

 _To him, she was_ _the greatest thing that small town had ever made_.

 _Little by little, something had grown between the pair._

 _There was once a soldier._

 _No one knew of his true name. He supposed he had forgotten it too, long ago._

 _The soldier was restless nights and strict schedules. He was wet sand and black ink. He was bloodshot eyes and chapped lips. He was old scars and new addictions. He was furrowed brows and hard, unyielding eyes._

 _He was never good enough._

 _Josie loved him anyway._

 _To her, he was the son of the moon itself. His soul was a dark, striking blue – like the ocean he wished to return to. To her, he was the sound of lapping waves after a storm had settled down. To her, he was the burn of sharp whiskey running down her throat. To her he was unkempt hair and whispered promises. To her, he was desperate kisses and beautifully torn skin. To her, he was the explosion of static you'd see after you kissed the love of your life a little too fast._

 _To her, he was far more than enough._

 _Josie and her Soldier._

 _This is where their story begins._

* * *

I felt fire erupt behind my eyes, and like a corpse caught in a sea of darkness, I was spit back into the world of the living.

My heart was beating quick, so quick. _What was that? What had I just seen?_

Images of thoughts, so vivid. _A girl and a boy – I wonder who they were?_

Foreign feelings felt like they were burning through my skin, like I'd been possessed by the soul of something inhuman. It hurt my heart for the strangest reason.

The feeling sat on my skin like acidic grease, weighing heavy on my soul. It was like I was a kid, sat down at a fire as some unnamed face recited a foreign story to me. Only that I couldn't get up, and I couldn't see who was forcing the story past my ears – all the while the fire grew hotter and hotter. Molten enough to burn skin.

Whoever that girl was that I saw, her and that boy. They had to have been more than a fancy little dream my mind just so happened to make up.

Why did it feel like, at the back of my mind, I knew who they were?

 _I had to calm down. I was breathing too quickly and my brain hurt the longer I thought about it._

I brought a hand to clutch at my head, the other inspecting a strangely lavish material that I'd seemingly passed out onto. I felt my head veer to my side to inspect it, all of my double chin out and proud as my hand felt the material.

Red velvet? And not the cake kind?

"I can see you weren't expecting me."

A voice broke through the disorientation, promptly forcing me to forget the contents of my dream.

Tilting my head, I found a familiar figure, young-faced and fancily-clothed, sitting in an armchair beside me. He was watching me with clever eyes, the same ones I'm sure I'd been in the company of before I passed out – only that they were a pretty wisteria colour instead of a warm, fiery brown. The little bit of lavender in them made them look like lilies in a freaking Monet painting.

It was the Eighth Doctor. The youngest version of him I'd seen so far, and it showed.

Not in his eyes. It wasn't like what you'd read in the books, or what I suppose I would've noticed when he was just an actor doing his job. Eyes just looked like eyes, and even while his were a tad more electric than any I'd seen – it was more in the way he held himself that I could tell.

He was so light now. This Doctor, sitting on a chair with what looked like a permanently rosy-gold face, looked like he didn't have much to worry about in life. His smile looked free.

 _This must be before the war_.

I blinked once, coaxing myself out of the fugue state I'd delved into.

"Doctor?" I asked, my voice dry and crackly, as if I'd been asleep for days.

"You gave me quite the scare, my dear," He spoke softly, smiling warmly – something that felt like it came as second nature to this version of him.

I straightened up, taking note that I was in an even older version of the TARDIS's console room. With bookshelves surrounding each wall, I let a small gasp slip by.

The rows went on for ages, and I felt an instant prick of interest to explore when I got the chance, the thought of each one being filled with alien information being too enticing to slip past unnoticed. It was very homey, completely my speed. There was a little table by the seat I'd woken up on too, one that had enough stuff on it to threaten falling over – it was cartoonish to say the least. Very Mad Hatter-ish.

Something about it struck me as odd though. A steaming cup of tea, balancing underneath a book half-read through.

This was _his_ set-up. _His_ chair.

I sat up suddenly, a feeling of intruding flushing through my veins.

The last time I'd met him, I called him my friend. 'Extremely hesitant friends,' _sure_ , but I had no idea where the younger version of him stood. Would he feel the same way now? A good few decades past?

I didn't want to step over any lines here.

I shook my head, forgetting that I had to be an actual person outside of myself and my thoughts.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm just a bit..." I gave him a smile both awkward and weak. " _Sorry,_ it seems like I've lost the ability to act like a functional member of human society."

A muscle of what seemed like amusement quirked in his cheek, like my current vulnerability was something he could sense. "And I'd say that was perfectly normal," he tried. "I can imagine human beings grow tired of having to keep up appearances. Everyone needs the chance to motor down eventually."

I snickered a bit at that response, realising once again that he'd replied in a way no human being ever could upon first chance. _Unusual as ever._

He grinned back, eyes crinkled. He adopted an amused look when he reached up and toyed with the thin paper crown I apparently still had on. "Where were you just?"

I reached up to pull the thing off, suddenly feeling a bit foolish. I was still dressed in the clothes I'd gotten from the Tyler's, save for the shoes. It was nice to know being sucked into space and time wouldn't do much to throw off my high-fashion couture.

Still I responded, my tone stilted where his was even. "Oh – Christmas. _Earth?"_

"Yes, I know what Earth is," He replied a little sarcastically, easing into the comfort of his chair, "I lost my memory when I regenerated. A momentary mishap at the time. Doesn't mean I've lost all my wits about me."

"Oh, that's nice to know," I said back pleasantly. "Shame I missed that. I would've found it pretty funny for a change – watching _you_ be the one to walk around in complete confusion and not some poor human. It would be chaos and I'd be trailing you with a bucket of popcorn."

He laughed deeply – a rolling, boyish sound – his accent shining through, but not in a way that made him sound plummy. He gave me a look. "My dear, while I don't doubt your ability to make the worst situations amusing, I should let you know now – for my own safety – that things _do not_ go that way when you get to it."

"Oh, you just had to go and spoil it. _Killjoy_." I said wryly, but my suppressed smile must've given me away.

It was understandable now – him talking about future travels for me – with my decision to stick around for a bit, without worrying about any other consequences.

I knew I'd reach the Pandorica eventually, but with the amount of times he kept referencing to a different version of me, I felt just the more conflicted – on how greatly I should be enjoying the present.

His smile lasted a second into the light-hearted silence that followed. The bleary warm hues of the light in this TARDIS making him look like a figment from a mirage.

"You seem a tad apprehensive," He noted, taking me by surprise.

"Yeah, and you seem to be doing one hell of a job at playing a ghost from the eighteen hundreds," I mimicked him, looking around the room uncouthly. "How can one person need so many candles? I thought the TARDIS had electricity."

It must have had something to do with adding to his dramatic flair.

He laughed, like he had taken my words as a grand compliment. "I thought they do a fantastic job at setting the room. Normal lamps are just too normal. Awfully dull."

"Yes well, living in candle-light does seem nice," I said sweetly, before my eyes narrowed into slits and I looked at him like I was placing an old curse upon him and his ancestors. "If you're looking to go prematurely blind."

He rolled his eyes. I couldn't help take the moment to look at him.

He was the man I was just walking shoulder to shoulder with. He was the man I had just had a spent a whole day and night with, saving the world and sparing no time to see it in all its beauty. He was the man I had just talked off a dangerous ledge of anger and self loathing. He was the man that had just single-handedly convinced crotchety old-souled me to join his crusade – to leave behind all worrying and my fretting.

He was the same man – but he wasn't either, since none of the stuff that had happened to him then had happened to him now. Experiences make the person, right?

It was just that I couldn't shake the feeling that I was talking to someone completely different.

Not a stranger, I could feel the rightness of our conversation, like we were two square sections on a Rubik's cube and we had just met again in a different formation. But it was new, and he was _young_ , and I felt like I was living in a house with so many different windows. This one just happened to be looking into the past – farther back than I had seen before.

I felt like I had the responsibility to have him know that – so we'd both be on the same page at least.

"Hey Doctor," I caught his attention, my fingers crossed over my lap as I gave him a level stare. "I should tell you, now, um, that I'm not too well-versed in all this–" I motioned to the ceiling vaguely, "I mean, I've found myself in some tricky spots with you by now – a few bad guys here and there. But you also keep telling me I'm early and young – whatever that means. And it's hard to tell if you know or not."

 _Good enough,_ I thought. It wasn't the easiest way to break the ice, since I never knew how he was going to react. I was saved from having to come up with hypothetical answers, when The Doctor's eyes went wide like that of a doe.

"Ah I see," He said after a pause. It was slow, but like he understood. Still, there was a tick in his face as his eyes shifted back to meet mine. "That's all well and good, Moore. It's understandable of course. But, for some odd cause, I have the grave, highly uncertain feeling that you mean more that what you're letting on," He said ominously.

I grimaced a tiny bit as he picked up on my sugar-coating.

"Drats, am I that transparent?" I tried before shaking my head, letting my uncertainty with this situation shine through – so that he knew the newness of it all. "Well, you just gave me this, if that means anything."

I fished around at my neck for the chain the tenth Doctor had given me – surprised to see that it hung there loosely, almost like it were air and I couldn't feel the heaviness of the metal it seemed to be made of. I showed my newly acquired key to him and his eyes flashed with a new form of understanding.

"Yes, that would make more sense," He smiled a tad solemnly to himself. "I've never met a version of you that went anywhere without it."

That look – I took note of it and tried to go in the opposite. There would be no sadness from him while I was around, at least not on my extent.

"Well, look at the bright side. Since I don't know you that well here, we could go about doing things normal people do when they're friends," I proposed quickly, registering from his look of bemusement that I'd probably stepped over a line. " _If_ that's cool, of course. I mean- well- the last version of you I was with – he said we get along. Like friends."

He was a stone wall of emotion then, and I decided the look didn't suit him – not when he was normally so alive.

"Friends, _yes_... I suppose you're right then," He considered carefully. His face was blank and his words stilted. Just when I needed to read him most, he'd let me down – but I suppose it wasn't too tumultuous of a wait, as he again returned to the default happy-go-lucky aura that came with this version. "Should be rather intriguing then. It's rather rare for me to see you when you're practically a tot."

I scoffed. "You're calling _me_ young, have you looked in a mirror?"

"800 years isn't a very short stretch from what you'd consider spry," He smiled wryly, still looking rather happy that I addressed his younger face.

I rolled my eyes, tossing my legs over the side of his plush lounge chair, my knees almost brushing his. We sat parallel each other now – him, collected and poised with his knees crossed, and me, with my hair falling in my eyes and my hands gripping onto my seat's arms like they were life-support.

"Yep, I guess so – which is why perspective is key," I gave him a look that asked him to go easy on me. "Do keep in note; this is the youngest 'you' I've met."

"And how are you finding it?" His eyes developed a roguish gleam, his smile a blend of lazy and confident. It was an entirely suggestive look.

In response, I just so suddenly happened to find the soles of my shoes to be far more interesting than I'd ever previously considered. I registered the glow on my nose. Damn the confidence of this man. _He was a regular ol' Mr. Darcy._

Scouts honour – I didn't know squat when it came to Eight. The extent of my knowledge on him was limited completely to the one movie he was ever featured in – and even then, the only thing I remembered about it was that this version of the Doctor was an egregious flirt. The fact that he was clearly handsome was something I didn't seem to have the decency to have remembered, and to add insult to injury, he gave off an air that you'd trust him without even ever knowing him.

I mean, Dr. Grace barely got away within an inch of her life, I had to hand it to her. That woman must've been a trooper to leave behind someone like him. And by that I meant, someone who truly made me believe 'pretty boy' should've been a gender all of its own.

I choked on the next words, but held my own. "Not very insightful to me learning more about you–"a blatant lie of course, but I had to find a way to diffuse the odd mood he was setting off. "I suppose you could still get around just fine, shouting at whippersnappers to get off your lawn, and all that jazz."

" _Hm,_ and here I thought I was past my days of being a 'crotchety old man' – as you so lovingly like to put it," he mumbled. Before I could respond, his eyes adopted a sheen, already a step ahead of me. "Now, enough of that – plenty of time for chit-chat later. I'd say an adventure is exactly what you need to get the sand out've your eyes."

Then, like a bolt of lightning – too quick to catch – he grabbed onto both my hands and pried me from the chair, excitement buzzing and he dragged me up to stand directly in front of him.

"Where would you like for us to go? Somewhere you've yet to be." He started, his cunning eyes flicking over my face as I formulated a response. Before I could even get out a confused _'slow down pardner, hold your horses'_ he was already holding his hands out. "No, wait, don't tell me!"

With a playful smile on, his hands went to tuck themselves behind his back as he began his analysis, off on an excited little tangent. "We've gathered that you're quite young, yes, but have you seen anything good yet?"

He began walking around me in slow circles, "Have we been to see any new planets yet? Woman wept? Reckon I promised I'd take you there one day. Corinth Minor? Floronia? 17th Century France, when I had to pry you away from Voltaire and his silly attempts at enlightenment? Ancient Egypt perhaps? You'd be in awe to know that a fistfight with a reanimated mummy isn't as easy as they make it out to be."

"No?" I said with a slight (wheeze) ™. "Like I said, I'm quite the amateur, as of yet. Been to your favourite destination of course – _modern day London_. There was Elizabethan England – _that was exciting_ – and oh, the 51st century on a planet that just looks a lot like an Earthy Beach."

His jaw dropped ever so slightly, and not in the way that indicated any kind of wide-mouthed awe.

"My, my. That _is_ disconcerting. I must turn incredibly boring in my later years," He said with a tone of complete disbelief at himself – it made me think how true the situation was, that if you trapped all versions of him in a single room, all you'd get is a whole lot of bickering – if he couldn't stand himself, what hope did it give the rest of us?

He gave me a look. "But have you even seen the inside of the TARDIS yet? When you woke up, you looked somewhat dazed – as if you hadn't."

I nodded slightly. "I've seen parts. She is infinite so not everything of course, but I've taken couple treks around the place-" _Trying to avoid a future you_ – I didn't think I should say. Then, apprehensively, I attempted to justify why it looked like I was such a foreigner. "Doctor, where I was before – that was _when_ I made the decision that I'd be sort of- staying with you? So yeah, I'm not all that caught up on domestics."

 _Good enough of an explanation? This was a double-whammy._

He smiled softly down at me, following my line of thinking – he knew I was early but he hadn't known if I willingly wanted to be there.

"I see," He breathed, "So you've decided to stay? In that you _want_ to? With me?"

" _Yes._ Yeah, I mean, if that's okay with you?" I answered back – I sounded just as uncertain, but from what I was seeing I felt I didn't have to be.

He shook his head softly. "You never need ask."

A comfortable lull in our conversation had me thinking about how odd this was – how out of character. If this were any regular old episode, all you'd see is an instant jump to action – with him impatient to jump onto the next adventure he could find.

There were little to no lulls on the show. It made me wonder if all daytime television was interested in was getting to the action, or if I was actually the only person to see him like this.

The silence was only then broken when the Doctor's eyebrows furrowed – back to being unhappy with the fact that I was such a stranger to this life. "Well, have you seen your room yet?"

 _The imposter room, you mean,_ I smiled to myself wryly.

The room where everything smelt like plastic, instead of the natural smell of 'old' that came with my ancient apartment back home. The room that didn't have trailings of Jackson's crayon scribbles embedded into the floorboards, from when he'd enthusiastically scribble over the sides of his paper. The fake room that didn't have any evidence of anyone having lived in it.

" _Yep,"_ I replied tightly, my lips a thin line. "But I don't want to go see it now, if that's cool."

The Doctor sat back down on his wicker chair, prompting me to follow. His eyes turned a shade softer at my bluntness, like he could see right through me.

"Why ever so?" He questioned softly, and suddenly, I felt quite ungrateful.

"It's just– not there. It hurts to look at, sorry." I rushed, sighing deeply to steady myself when I realised how much of a ninny I was probably sounding like.

 _Well, what the hell? A little honesty never hurt anyone, right?_

I breathed deeply and tried to convey to him exactly how this all felt. "Doctor, that little room was mine – the one I had back home. Two years of living in it sure, _but it was mine_ ," I looked at my hands. I knew I was smiling, but I felt far from it. "I spilt tea, coffee, nail polish – ton's of things in there. I tracked mud in, on days where I was too tired to notice. I scribbled on the walls, put up flower stickers, had way too many books around, wrote cringey notes to cute boys that came to the shop – that always ended up crumpled into wads under the bed."

I sounded matter-of-fact, but I inherently felt like I'd left a big part of me behind somewhere. "None of that is there anymore. It's like it's been erased. So yeah, I'm sorry, but it hurts to look at."

The Doctor looked stunted – eyes large and lips parted as though he'd never guessed. I wondered if it was because of how different we were. He was always moving, an infinite entity that surely didn't see the point in caring about such insignificant things – whereas my whole life consisted of caring about the small things people easily discarded. He was there, saving universes and defending alien races – where all I had was my little sanctuary of a room. The difference seemed a little staggering when I thought of it like that.

I waited with bated breath as a second passed, watching as his expression fizzled out into one of sympathy, caramel coloured eyebrows tilted down sadly.

"Well, the answer seems quite simple then," He said simply, his face turning resolute. _"We ought to find a way to fix it."_

My face contorted – bewilderment at its finest as I breathed an unsure laugh. "And how do we reckon we do that. Ring up Bob-the-builder, and ask him to come make some home improvements?"

He grinned. "While I'm sure that'd save us time, I just assumed we'd do it the way we always do."

I had a sneaking suspicion I knew what he meant.

"Oh, so is this the part where you take me on a most excellent adventure?" I asked him excitedly, slipping into my best bro voice. "I still don't see how that would do anything though. I might as well just take up residence here on the floor. It really does look comfortable enough, plenty of books around."

"As much as you may not believe it, I like to treat those that travel with me with some modicum of respect. A room to sleep in is a necessity I imagine," He said like he wouldn't know. "And I'd like for you to leave the rest to me. By the end of our journey, you will be one step closer to feeling comfortable on board this old ship."

"Okay... _okay_." I agreed slowly, mostly to myself, as I got up and walked over to the TARDIS console. I gave him the most challenging look I could muster when I reached – after all, what did I have to lose from such a proposition? _"You're on."_

He grinned, before following me in turn – getting up as I trailed further around the large room. It looked so much like the living room to the most expensive mansion I'd ever stepped foot in – though, instead of expensive marble floors and over-the-top crystal embellishments – it made me feel entirely at home with wooden decor and stray bits of machinery. It looked lived in – like the Doctor was constantly moving things about. My eyes flickered past opened books, empty teacups, stray socks, candelabras already half melted, loose bits of paper scattered across the patterned floor – a woman's jacket?

I gulped once, shaking my head – _what's so strange about that_? The Doctor was notorious for having a preference of female companions. Though I did wonder who he was in the company of this time round – as Grace never did stick around, and I knew very little else about Eight and his journeys.

Thinking my thoughts were on the TARDIS's appearance, the Doctor asked proudly. "What do you think? It's your first time seeing this desktop, I believe."

I turned to him, appreciative – attempting to sound like my heart was completely into the thought.

"Oh, she's gorgeous. But I doubt that's ever going to change," I smiled softly, patting the side of the console and feeling the ticklish buzz of her heart from underneath my palm. Unable to stop my curiosity however, I turned to look at the Time-Lord. _"_ I was curious though, Doc... Isn't there anyone else you've promised to take around at the moment? Any new strays you've picked up? I don't want to get in the way, if you had."

He waved a dismissive hand, but his eyes were the slightest bit pallid. "Don't you worry about that. It's just me right now," He said, his tone unreadable. "I had two companions not too long ago. An Ice Warrior – Ssard – and a woman called Stacy. Interesting pair. They wanted to leave to get married, so who was I to stop them?"

"Oh, nice." I smiled – awfully progressive as the thought was. That was plenty interesting too – I did really want to know what I was missing out on, the thought of missing gaps within my knowledge of Doctor's life seeming almost necessary to fill now. Though, it was his face that tugged at my attention, stronger than the other thoughts. This Doctor was such an open book of emotion – he wore his heart on his sleeve. Why couldn't I sense what he was feeling now?

Venturing a bit closer to him, I tried not to feel sad when I asked him. "Don't you get lonely on your own?"

He smiled, the long fingers of one hand toying with a pocket-watch that hung loosely from his petticoat. " _Well,_ on days like today, I don't think the thought ever really registers."

Curiosity piqued, I tried not to focus on the upsetting fact that he basically confirmed my thoughts. Shit, even just the thought of the Doctor, alone, idling about by himself in the TARDIS – talking to himself, no doubt – it hurt to think of. No one who had lived so long, having done so much good, deserved to have no one.

I shook my head slightly, wanting to clear it. It wasn't the first time I'd had this thought, I doubt it would've been the last.

"What's special about today, then?" I asked, attempting a smile.

His eyes, his hands – they both abandoned their movements of tracing the carved patterns of his watch lightly with his thumb. He looked up and shrugged. "You're here. What else could I need?"

I snorted, a bit too derisively – who was he fooling? "Your sense of judgement must really have taken a hit this time, Doctor. I'm not all that fun."

"I'd beg to differ," He said, opposing. His eyes turned a hue deeper then – or maybe it was just the candlelight that made them look so dangerous. "It's incredibly hard to amuse me, my dear. You've never even had to try."

 _Whoa_. I almost had to reel back, but I'm sure my eyes inflated all the same. _Dangerous, indeed._

 _Was he feeling alright? Was this really not just the dementia talking?_

Perhaps he's mistaking me with his memories of Ace. Now that girl always was a firecracker.

Still, going with the idea that he was sane – semi-sane in his case, that's never going to change – I just had to think of this from what I've been hearing at face value. His words were sweet, _honest_ – which is what made it even harder to grapple with myself that he was just trying to be nice.

Why was he being like this? I mean, I couldn't blame him for being the dreamy poet I'd seen on the screen, but it was beginning to worry me – the connecting themes of attention I'd been given from him. I'd been noticing it more often. With almost every version of him I'd met this far. I hope _I_ hadn't done anything to cause it.

God – I'd look like such an idiot sandwich in front of him if I ever said any of those things out loud, since this was all just me getting in over my head.

Attempting to digress – I feigned a yawn to seem distracted. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Doctor." I said half-heartedly.

He made a loud noise of disapproval then, tutting a sense of disappointment. "Oh, no, no, no, no! Come now. _Sleep is for the dead!_ – though, if we keep travelling back to meet them, I suppose we're not really giving them the chance. Still, we should move along now."

 _A time-travel adventure in the past? What a perfect notion._

Looking on with a tickle in my stomach – similar to when a parent promised you a surprise gift and all you could do was wait – I watched as the Doctor raced forward to the console. He wasn't the absolute bonkers-version I'd seen with Eleven – who had legitimately looked like he was playing whack-a-mole at the carnival when he worked the buttons – nor did he look like Ten, who looked as though he was playing multiple complex instruments, racing back and forth to get all the chords. No, Eight was slower with bits like running around – he instead clung closely to the machine, his hands a blur as they smoothly crossed a hundred buttons per half a minute – like a hummingbird.

Watching him, I felt frissons of excitement to just hear the dials move – Still clueless to where it was this process was supposed to go. After all, this _was_ the first time we'd been on the TARDIS alone – ready to go on an adventure I had absolutely no clue about.

Moving like an octopus on a bad acid trip, from the shaking of the TARDIS walls – I bounded over to him, my hands avoiding any flashing blimps as I splayed them onto the console to support myself.

I caught sight of half the Doctor's face, the tall section of the console cutting off my vision of him from where I was standing at his opposite.

"How long till we get to go off?" I asked, barely able to keep up my cool and collected facade. I observed his face that was turned towards his occupied hands, his eyes a blur of movement as they followed and calculated.

"Oh why, not all that long," He answered thoughtfully. "Though I do suppose it will take longer for when you're getting dressed."

"What? Why? I think I look stunning," I said, waggling my eyebrows, before I grew slightly annoyed. "And you _never_ change, so what's the point."

"Well, I'm already dressed to suit the occasion – perhaps a few decades off, but nothing that'll cause mass hysteria. A little hint for you to stew over," He tapped his nose, his eyes slotting up to meet mine.

What, were we going to the Victorian Times? I hadn't exactly packed a chimney-sweep brush or a guide on how to deal with the severe lack of potatoes in the country – if my limited knowledge of history told me anything.

His mellow voice brought me back to the present. "Also my dear, not that I don't think you always look suitable, but it's that I do believe half the population would be in a complete state of disrepair if you were to go out dressed like that."

 _Gosh, this was new territory indeed._

I made a vague assortment of suspicious, haughty noises – positively delighted with all the evidence he was giving me.

"Very, very, interesting," I hummed, tugging again at Rose's borrowed clothes as my mind began sifting through the differing possible eras.

The TARDIS halted its shaking.

I looked at the Doctor like a dog finding a squirrel, finding his eyes. Then, poofing my hair exaggeratedly with a hand, I asked, "Ok, so is this the part where I go get all dolled up?"

He made a complacent noise. "Yes. Definitely. Though, try not to spend too long. It's awfully time-consuming, and I never have much to do otherwise."

"Well, keep yourself occupied. If I'm going to try and look semi-decent, I at least want to look the part." I gave him a look, before straightening and flourishing my blanket from my shoulders. "Once I have good hair and cool shoes, no one will be able to stop me."

He laughed charmingly, his eyes crinkling into a crow's feet pattern that suited his demeanour well. "Now I can't stand in the way of that, can I? The old girl will help then. I wanted to keep it a secret – but judging from the clothes she'll direct you to, you're bound to guess correctly."

" _Neat,"_ I exclaimed as though it were a 'thank you', the smile high in my voice. I paused, thinking as the smile slipped. "Oh right –um, where was the closet again?"

His face turned to a screen on the console as he hummed thoughtfully, filling in silence before he just sighed.

" _Buggered rooms are always moving,"_ The Doctor muttered non-spitefully – I doubt he could even bare to sound mean – before looking onto pixelated map on the console – his eyes scanning over infinite interior. "Corridor to your left, make two right turns and then straight up the ladder you'll see."

"Right." I nodded, before grinning at a thought. "Try not to burn the place down in my absence, would you?"

"I'll try not to get my hands on any matches." He said in an easy-going way. The illusion of his words, however, were ruined by where he stood – beside a large looming candelabra with matches clearly disposed to its side. I rolled my eyes.

My eyes then left the cravat-wearing, poofy-haired man – the image of him pouring over his device being the last thing I saw as I entered a corridor. I know it's funny, but I could've sworn on all the bones of my ancestors that I felt his eyes trail me once I'd looked away – just the feeling of it being hot at the back of my head.

Once again – I found myself wondering. Was it a habit of him to do so, or was I just hallucinating. He'd do it to a lot of people on the show – as the camera zoomed in on his expression, whatever it was at the time, with a swell of music blooming in the background – before it cut to the next shot, that is.

I'd have to catch him at it one day. That'd definitely do the trick at ruining whatever grand, theatrical face he liked putting on.

Though, speaking of real-life scenarios, the thought did desperately make me wish I could use the power of editing to zoom past all the anxiety that would surely come when I decided I wouldn't look good in any fancy clothes the TARDIS could've shown me – the image of me looking like an uncomfortable sloth in a dress really making me dread each step I took.

 _What joy!_

* * *

" _God_ , this place is every sane human's dream!" I exclaimed, hearing my words echo in the cavernous pit of fabric. "It's just a damn shame I hate any article of clothing that isn't black."

I balanced on the grating as I swept around the circular room, gazing directly above me to take it the endless reams of joined floors. I'm sure there was one for every adornment ever known to man, and then, even more from other planets as well.

"I really hope you don't expect me to climb all that – unless you want the Doctor to die of old age," I said to the walls. "Which would honestly be quite the achievement if you think about it."

The room shook slightly, throwing me off-balance, as though the room itself was pissed off that I didn't appreciate the architecture. It wasn't that it wasn't pretty – because it was – gold, art nouveau-ish racks and all. It was just that I genuinely thought I'd be lost in here, looking for something to where before giving up.

What met my anxieties however, was a soft boop that caught my attention. The noise drew my ears and then my eyes to a small set of racks near the back of the room's floor.

Like I was being given help by the messiah himself, I rushed over and began shifting through what were apparently fancy suits and dresses.

"Um, help?" I muttered to the TARDIS, observing the lack of labels and other helpful pieces of info that normally came with shops. "None of these are my size. Or my century – and you can see how the second bit gives me a limited idea on how to assess the first."

My fingers clumsily shifted through the slippery clothes, lacking the precision they had gained from years of tracing paper-bound spines and columns. I did however, take an extra second to let my fingers run through each new material it found. Just for funsies.

"Just tell me when to stop, I guess," I spoke to the skies above me, knowing in my heart that the ship herself wouldn't let me down.

My eyes attempted to pick up on common items and accessories with the clothes, since everyone knows that it's impossible to tell what something looks like on a hanger. Pearls, a lot of pearls, and lace, I think that's what it was. I wasn't exactly an expert on this.

My hands abruptly stopped in their place when the TARDIS jolted me but loudly blaring signal that just ripped through my eardrums. _Alright I get it! Please do not hurt me or my baby ears._

I unknowingly pulled out the dress and watched myself from a dissociative state as I was stripped of all my innocence.

"Oh, you're really enjoying yourself, aren't you?" I looked up to the roof, addressing the ship herself. Damn entity must've heard my little ramble from earlier and had taken it upon herself to adorn me in an especially uncomfy, sequined thing.

The dress itself was a heavy, beaded, dove white garment that would fall down to just a little above my knees. There were small traces of gold threading in it too, I found, after turning it to the light and watching how they glinted warmly.

 _The 20's it is then._

A long chain of cream coloured pearls were hanging off the collar, accompanied by a light black string that probably went around the neck as well. Another shorter chain, that appeared to have loops where beads would hang onto ones forehead, hung with its silver embellishments glinting in the light. Now, all of that would've been fine and dandy in and of itself – if it wasn't for the fact that it would have left most of my back uncovered if I were to wear it. There were floral, art nouveau inspired patterns that tied it up in a way that wasn't all too scandalous – but for someone who'd grown up in a third-world country with people cladded in full burqas, you can probably imagine my unrest at wearing something remotely revealing.

Though, I had heard the saying when it came to dresses – the shorter it was, the easier it was to dance in. The flapper's practically inspired that, I'm sure. It's a good thing I'd shaved my legs back at the Tyler's – back when I was just looking for any excuse to not leave their small bathroom because of how miserable a mind-state I'd been in.

My thoughts sobered, turning sad when they flittered back to why I'd been so bereaved. To what still caused my heart to swell. The mop of blonde tangles I missed more than anything.

It was like my arms felt empty. Like I'd been holding him for years, but could no longer feel the pressure – I could barely remember the hugs, or the smell of kiddie-shampoo he gave off.

Most people felt flightless when they experienced that – like a lack of responsibility gave them free reign to live a consequence free life. The way in which I missed Jackson however – well, it just made me feel really, really sad.

 _No._ I wiped my cheeks clean.

No. I was going to have a good time right now if it killed me – just a single moment where I could let myself have fun. I couldn't remember the last time I'd just had a go – laughing without any guilt, any worry for the future.

This was a temporary home for me – but it was a home still. The Doctor was someone I had begun to care about. An odd flatmate friend, I suppose – but one that was endlessly endearing, I'd admit.

I knew that I wanted to stay here, and that was okay. Just because you miss someone, it doesn't mean that you feel like shit in all other instances that the person isn't there.

A concerned beep sounded from the wall, to which I smiled reassuringly. "I'm good. Really. It's just funny how, even on a time machine, I haven't learnt how to let time go. Still, I will for tonight. And hopefully, for some time to come."

A gust of wind shot up from the grate flooring beneath me, tickling my feet and forcing a laugh out of me as my hair went flying. This silly ship honestly had a great grasp on how to comfort people, better than most humans did.

I'd have to ask her later, about that dream – but, like most things at the moment, I wanted to forget the world for this adventure.

I straightened my spine, getting dressed behind the rack of clothes – not really in the mood to scale an extra fifty floors to find a dressing room. I placed my other clothes beside the rack and decided to get them back later. Just in case though, I asked the TARDIS if she could store them in a safe place for me.

When I was done, I saw a long pipe next to the dress, and that in and of itself just assured that it was the roaring 20's I was looking at. I snorted, walking past the thing like a good, law-abiding child. "No thanks, I'm not looking to acquire lung cancer tonight."

I walked over to a small boudoir section of the next floor up, finding a small table full of an assortment of make-up and other little knick knacks. I fiddled around with stuff I already knew – promptly noticing that my eyebrows were far too full to entirely fit in, and the majority of my hair was too thick to make into those funny waves.

Still, after what could've been a good 20 minutes, I had done one hell of a job. Tackling the front of my hair into clips and smothering them with hairspray, I had gotten them to somewhat resemble curls – impressive with the lack of any YouTube tutorials. I then decided to be scandalous for the time, going to pull a "Pola Negri' with the makeup, putting on a deep red lip and thick eyeliner to top off the bronzy eye shadow. I didn't wear make-up all that often – but even I couldn't deny the fun, artsy quality you got out of putting it on.

I walked out of the room when I was as happy as I could be with my lacking skills, already cracking my knuckles and my neck when I remembered what a massive pain it'll be to retrace my steps back to where the Doctor was most certainly waiting.

Funnily enough, my grievances where cut down as soon as I walked out, because there he was – arms crossed, leaning against the corridor wall, with his attention to the ceiling.

The Doctor had been waiting a little ways outside, so it looked. And when I say _looked_ – I almost had to double take as I saw what he had on.

Gone was the frock-coat, vest and cravat – features that had been swapped for a proper suit and tie – leaps more modern, fit for the 20's standards. His new suit was a deep navy blue, neatly pressed, with his muted gold tie a perfect knot – as well as the shiny oxfords that cladded his feet. His hair had been gelled back to fit the time period, unusual since it was a bit on the longer side, but entirely fitting.

He made the perfect image of this well-read, oxford-graduated philanthropist in his late twenties – so much so that it was hard not to imagine him at some expensive bar, telling some grand story to a bunch of rich aristocrats, with his fingers wrapped around a glass of bourbon – almost certainly gaining their trust before he robbed them of their fortunes over a game of poker.

It was a tiny bit phantasmagorical, seeing him like that. I had thought he was like a cartoon character in that nature, ever so rarely changing around his assorted get-up, but with this – even I couldn't deny that he looked ready to turn every head on the street.

I walked out, my smile increasing ten-fold before I could stop it.

"My, my, my. And I thought I was the only one who was supposed to be looking dapper," I said, emerging from the shadows.

His head rolled around to the sound of my teasing voice, a small smirk growing as he looked ready to retort. His throat, which had been extended towards the ceiling, contracted until he was again eye level with me.

The lucidity of what came startled me – the way his smirk fell, the way eyes widened, the unbearingly apparent way all motion seemed to leave him, even his posture had turned ram-rod straight as he stood to his full height, no longer leaning. I was caught between laughing and feeling extremely uncertain of the way I looked – because not ever would I have expected, nor warranted, such a reaction.

All this without him even having said anything.

I was going to tell him to tell me what was wrong or priss off, before his lips parted, ready to speak.

"You look radiant," he said then, a gleam in his eyes, almost like whatever witty quip he was going to reply with to my previous comment had been entirely forgotten about.

I had to gawp back at him. It was all my brain allowed me the chance to do. The disbelief I felt was almost palpable in the air.

But the look he had on, it was just the kind that you knew wasn't a lie. This man was entirely, truly honest in his assessment, and that made it even more difficult to believe. Why hadn't he just given me a funny old grin and fleetingly tell me I looked lovely before moving on, like he does with Donna in their little bee-keeping fiasco with Agatha Christie? I wasn't all that different in any regard – where the both of us had constructed our own little homemade looks that were nothing professional in the slightest.

But there was nothing I could say, nothing I could question. It didn't feel like I could, so all I did was nod, with my face scrunching up a bit to avoid recognising the heat creeping up my neck.

"Many thanks, good sir," I said lightly, using my best impersonation of a transatlantic accent – or what I'd just appointed my 20's radio broadcaster voice. I was hoping he couldn't hear the strain in my voice.

After taking a pause where I fiddled with my hair, mainly to regain my composure, I gestured vaguely to his attire. "Care to explain? I never thought you were one for blending into your environment. Or looking fancy for ordinary bouts around." I looked at him suspiciously before scrunching up my face. "Did you do this just to shove my nose in about being faster at getting ready?"

The Doctor laughed deeply, a self-reflective note in his gaze. "Well that's just it. I had only planned on showing you how little time it takes to get dressed – to which this took me a sure ten minutes to get on," he said with a smile in his voice, plainly trying to one-up me, before his words suddenly turned deeper. "But then, I do think I had underlying intentions. I have the opportunity of a dozen of my lifetimes – that this will be your first true adventure in time. Nothing boring, nothing overcomplicated, nothing that's entirely about myself. I have a few incarnations I would enjoy rubbing that in the faces of."

I felt my jaw drop as I turned to look at him like he'd grown a second head. " _My days._ I think you've reached a _whole_ new level of 'full-of-it' when you want to make past versions of yourself jealous."

 _And for whatever reason of importance?_ I pondered as a thought at the back of my mind.

He grinned largely, taking my shock in stride. "Oh yes. Irrefutably," he quirked an eyebrow at me. "But you wouldn't have me any other way."

 _The gall._ I set my jaw, narrowing my eyes at him. "I don't know, taking away the arrogance is basically stripping your character of 90% of its entire foundation."

"And that information strikes me very deeply," He said gravely, clutching his chest to insinuate the damage. Yet still, with quirked lips, he held his arm out – a picture of charm. "Ready to go paint the town?"

I snorted, my fingers slipping around the smooth wool of his sleeve. "Definitely, old sport."

* * *

"Ladies and Gents, brace yourselves," I breathed under my breath, the hint of a smile in my voice.

I, like any odd person that'd been given the opportunity, had been the one to step ahead first – after all, the Doctor had done so already many times. Feeling much like a little girl who had just run away from home, the first clopping noise of my heel on the cobblestone pavement, accompanied by the old, wooden creaks of the TARDIS doors being fully opened – they wrung with the promise of something new.

The best way I could describe it – being the one to do this myself, without the mounting fear of impending danger and without a script I dreaded ruining – well, it was an unbearable fullness of the heart.

Like when there's a countdown to the start of a new year and everyone's tense and drunk and excited, their hands clutched onto their party poppers and their eyes skittishly dancing around the room to see who'd be around to kiss through the confetti – that exact feeling of being _so completely alive._

As the door opened, the sudden rush of fresh air felt like static, and the intermingled scents of a dozen expensive perfumes did just as much to assault my senses. The sense of being out of time was a strong one.

And that sentiment was only driven home by the image before me.

It was that of a nearly empty street at night, washed over with a dull, amber yellow from the lacking abundance of streetlamps, as well as a deep blue of the vast sky above us. Cigarette smoke hung hazily in the air, and despite the terror it inspired in my lungs, I couldn't deny how fitting it felt in amongst this cityscape. Shops lined the street before me; vintage decals – though not for the time I was standing in – decorated the numerous glass panes. From within them, past the foggy windows, I could barely make out moving bodies, accompanied by the faint hum of jazz hiding in the air. It was threatening to spill out of the homes surrounding us.

" _Paris!_ The city of lights – La Ville Lumière!" The Doctor's voice was as light as a bird, full of heart as he resonated with his surroundings. "Home to some of the most brilliant hearts that ever walked the earth!"

I smiled as he jolted past me like a dog too excited for a walk, leaving me to close the TARDIS doors behind us.

"I thought you were keener on people with great minds," I probed, imagining that he had a greater love for scholars, scientists and great mathematicians – more so than he did for famous wordsmiths and painters.

I, like any regular kid my age, had learnt enough about history to where I could answer a pop quiz and not completely bomb it – but the 20's were a universally known time. And, as someone with a dozen literary heroes, I couldn't help the hopeful nudge that told me they were now breathing the same air I was.

"I've never been one to discredit craftsmanship," The Doctor said with a smile, his face vibrant as he looked at me. "Art, my dear, comes from the hearts of men. This is where most of it was born. And if I'm right, and I truly didn't muss up the coordinates – then it is indeed; still being made."

I laughed behind my hand, adopting his giddiness like a virus – that energy of his' was just that contagious.

"Yeah, well, you must feel right at home – you poet," I said, picking at his sense of theatricality. I approached him slowly, still wobbly on the heels I wore. As short as they were, I was a complete novice – the result of opting to wear nothing but flat shoes your entire life.

"So, what did you have in mind to see in Paris?" I questioned before immediately stopping myself, my face souring like I'd said something despicable. "I can't believe I just said that. _It's Paris_. Most people would be ready and willing to give an arm, just to walk around it even. And it's the 20's, so that definitely warrants a leg too," I shuddered, before shooting the Doctor a disagreeable look. "But I imagine that's not your speed. Sight-seeing and smooth talking along the Seine."

He grinned at that, a feint eyebrow lifted like I'd just been bold in assuming his character.

"Not when it's with the right person, my dear," He spoke back, his voice the consistency of flowing silk, as if an attempt to spite me.

That comment would definitely have me thinking. He wagged his head, a smooth hand reaching into his jacket to pull out a pocket watch. "We could always get to that – the night's still young, after all. But I did have destination I thought you'd quite enjoy."

"Is that right?" I tilted my head, my eyes glancing at his pocket watch, attempting to discern whether it was the same I had glimpsed on my earlier journey with 10. The remembrance of that reoccurring thought, with us two walking leisurely through the English streets, convinced me. This one was going to be fun – slow jaunts could come later, but for now, some cat-like instinct was begging me to run and move.

"Indeed, Miss Moore. An event fit for the stars that kings and queens admire," He recited, with that same dreamy tone he always put on to describe a great tale.

He began to walk around me; a story-teller tracing a lit fire. "You wouldn't have heard of it – not many have – most of it's been hushed over the years. But they've been stories about it, feint whispers, about what happens tonight. Historians once called it a melting pot of artistic genius – with many a soul wishing they could be where we are now; dressed for the occasion and ready to walk straight into it."

I stared at him with wide eyes. "You really know how to build something up, don't you? Can I borrow you to convince me that a trip round the dentists is just the premise to some equally crazy adventure?"

He smiled, the crazy whimsy calming from his eyes. "Not even I could sugar-coat such a tragic occasion."

Then, like a cat with sensitive ears, his gaze turned further down towards the long hallway before us. The mad grin that came next held a promise.

"Enough foreshadowing of the future," He murmured, voice low. "Why not go live it instead?"

* * *

It was like a snow-globe in a way. A sparkly pocket dimension – some small, contained world that the Doctor and I had just strolled into.

The view as we walked down the olden Parisian streets was blinding, with each minor detail making me note how horribly inaccurate movies could be at catching the subtleties. Where Elizabethan England made me want to hold my nose and not step in the remnants of poor plumbing and litter in the streets, this world was personified by a seductress just begging you to explore every inch of it.

The streets were cobble, with a sheen that only made me dream of a chance at catching the rain. The buildings went higher than I thought too, with long slim windows indicating apartments full of starving artists. The first moment came, when the Doctor and I encountered other living souls at face value too. They were a rowdy, young bunch of people just walking past us with long cigarettes and unopened bottles of alcohol, surely on their way to some party. I just couldn't help but gawk. The dress sense and norm of appearance, for both the men and women, was just so striking – something clear to see, despite the Doctor and I's best attempts at trying to mimic it. They politely nodded at us as they passed, the men tipping their hats and the ladies smiling, odd due to their already distracted states. As they took time to pause their laughter and conversation for the sake of a greeting, I wondered just when and why humanity forgot such common courtesies.

My point is that it was grand. Beyond all modern belief. How many people in the twenty-first century, residents and tourists alike, strolled through the older version of this – just praying to catch a slight glimpse of the glowing past.

It was Paris, it was 1920, and it was one of the most enchanting things I had ever seen. Yet, as oddities in human brains tend to go, I was finding myself drawn away from all of its splendour – by none other than the man beside me.

The Doctor was an indescribable object in this city of gold, and I suppose that was telling of my personality. Always pick a mystery over the shiny thing.

It didn't happen immediately, no. I was rapt by the world around us like any sane kid that had been brought back into time. But sooner than later, I had begun taking note of the small things. Slowly, I found my attention being stripped away, until it nearly belonged solely to him. It began with the way he walked next to me, bumping into my shoulder as we walked in a way I'd debate was deliberate. Despite his soft voice and careful demeanour, he still possessed some of the strut I had come to see in his older selves. Then, it was when he opened his mouth – how his voice was able to draw you in like he was reciting literature, despite the fact that it was almost always bound to be some nonsensical tale about some far off planet.

It was the oddness in the way he walked with me, odd in how he drew me to make a connection so fast, to give him my trust so easily, tentative though it was. There was some kind of magic to the way he smiled; a warmth, a genuineness, a softness of spirit I just couldn't pass up.

It was something I had surely noticed before, yet had never taken the time to really see.

When I spoke, he listened like he was absorbing the words, not simply getting my "turn" over and done with so he could return to some other topic – you can imagine my surprise when he turned the topic towards how I had been doing, instead of seizing the opportunity to talk about his far more interesting endeavours.

The more we talked away, the more light my spirit felt. I was doubly surprised to find that it wasn't a new discovery either, but was something I could feel with all the older versions of him I had met as well. It instead just felt more solid, now that we could walk slow enough to feel it.

" _And that,_ my dear, is how I played a key role in aiding the Atlantians in hiding their city from the rest of you lot," The Doctor's voice concluded – a far cry away from where my thoughts had just been focused. "Though we could always pop in for a visit. They've got excellent water-parks."

I came out of my daze, my head nodding along slightly as if I'd just found myself waking up. "I can't swim so I can see some pretty unfortunate outcomes there."

He lightly touched the crook of my elbow, picking up on my bleariness, "Are you quite alright? I haven't bored you to death have I? Though I would shame you – I could've fetched a pretty penny telling that story to the UN instead."

I snorted, fully reclaiming my wits. "Course you haven't bored me. I'd have to be the maddest girl in the world to find you boring. I was just thinking."

He preened at the veiled compliment, his smile growing. I found it sweet in a way, as well as somewhat humbling. He seemed to be doing his best to try and impress me tonight – his suit, the fantastical city surrounding us, wild stories, a secret destination – and these tiny reassurances. It was a smaller view of what he was really thinking – his need to see if I was keeping up, if I was enjoying myself.

"That's good then, I'm glad you find me interesting company," He said, chuckling once. "Though I would say you should keep a clear mind right about now. We've reached our stop."

And at that I turned to follow where his gaze had just dropped, ahead of us at a seemingly ordinary looking building.

We had walked quite a fair bit to the overskirts of town, towards where the lights fizzled out and you could smell the ocean off in the near distance – a location that made sense for the whereabouts of the large structure before us. It could have been an old factory or storage-house if I didn't know any better – what with the somewhat shabby, run-down look of it. Despite its grand size, the walls were peeling of the paint, looking slightly moldy under the yellowed street lamps, with the windows boarded up from the inside as well.

Funnily enough, in equal measure to being pants-shittingly scary, a tall man in dark period clothes was the only other life form that was accompanying us in the street. He was leaned up against the closed doorway to the building, his fedora shading his eyes away from our sights.

" _This is mildly suspicious_ ," I muttered, putting it lightly. I'm sure that my wide eyes gave away the full story. The fear momentarily subsided as I pursed my lips and nodded, in slight awe. "Have you brought me here just to murder me, because if so, well-done. I hadn't suspected you at all, come now."

He tutted lightly and gave me a look. "How could you accuse me of such a thing? As if I'd go the extent to put this atrocious product in my hair and walk half a mile, just to do something like that."

I shot him a sharp glare and hmphed, finding it within me to not simultaneously laugh and call him a prick. I instead opted to shove him in the shoulder with my own.

"No, I suppose you could've just pushed me into the sun by now," I said in the driest voice. "Still, that begs the question. _Where the hell are we?_ "

"I have a vague idea," The Doctor said lightly, his care-free demeanour mixing like oil into this water-coloured illustration of a possible murder scene. He screwed his eyebrow up then, as if he'd forgotten some trivial thing. "You know how unreliable rumours can be. Even if it was Picasso, I should've known to fact check instead of believing that miser. Though, if I am right, and I hopefully am, then this is just a facade to where we truly need to be."

I shook my head, the insanity of this man being too much.

"Haven't you learnt not to walk into dangerous situations like a lout by now?" I said like I wasn't expecting he ever would. "Though, of course, I'd imagine if this was any less dangerous – you'd get bored. Doesn't matter how many versions of you there are, everything's a game to you isn't it?"

Looking ahead like a man preparing for battle, the Doctor tugged his jacket lapels straight. He briefly looked down to meet my eye. "I think you'll find I can make anything a game, depending on how badly I want to play."

And like his last name could've been Bond, he walked ahead with all the sense of fitting in as a spy – in that you knew, it didn't matter at all matter what the year was, or what country we were in or whatever it was that we were walking into – he would have traipsed into any situation the exact same way.

He walked slow enough to tell me to follow suit, accompanying him with an equal amount of gravitas. I wanted to hiss at him like a cat being taken out of its comfort zone, because there was no reality I knew of that allowed me to walk with that sort of confidence. It wasn't that I wouldn't even try, but I knew that he did one-up me on experience.

Straightening my posture and smoothing out the creases in the sides of my dress, I feigned a similar stance – making sure to stand partially behind the Doctor so that I wouldn't jeopardise any of the plans he was most definitely procuring.

As we approached the only other figure in sight, we noticed how he hardly shifted – the slight raise of his head being the only thing to reveal that he acknowledged our presence.

" _Names?"_ The veiled man asked in a deep Parisian voice, as though his throat was riddled with holes made by a lifetimes worth of cigar smoke. I'm sure he was speaking French by default, only that the TARDIS's translation circuit was in full effect.

In a flash, the Doctor had procured something to show the stranger; his psychic paper. He must've been just as blind as I was to how this transaction would go, judging from his bated breath at waiting for the stranger to make up what he would from the blank card.

One of the man's eyes gleamed in the dark, his attention piqued.

"Hemingway sir?" The figure straightened, coughing to relieve his voice of its grit.

I restrained the urge to bite down on my fist, the laughs being taken care of by the shock of the situation. My wide eyes conveyed the essence of 'you brought this situation on yourself' as I watched the Doctor open-mouthedly try and tackle the situation.

He coughed, humming in agreeance.

" _Yes_. Truly. _Hemingway_ , as you can see," The Doctor spoke, an unexpected ease to his newly acquired, surprisingly good, American accent. It made him sound as though he was fresh off a passenger plane from Illinois.

Clever boy. I don't know why I even bothered doubting him – as if he hadn't already memorised the famous author's life story from a biographic he read in passing some century ago.

The Doctor smiled charmingly at the man, his stance lazy yet secretive as he leaned up against the wall. "I heard about the occasion from the Fitzgerald's, so I thought I would stop by."

"Indeed sir. We've been expecting you. Your name is high on our records," There was an odd note of repressed respect to the other man's voice, even as it kept its low timbre. That spark seemed to die once his gaze flittered to me. "Who is the girl?"

The Doctor wasted no time in turning his attention to me, playfully reaching for my palm and tugging me into his side. I'd shove him for that that, but had to grit my teeth behind my faux smile.

"This is my plus one. My most recent muse. I'm currently writing a short vignette regarding her steadfast gaze," The Doctor said suavely, an underlying look in his eye just begging me not to murder him in his sleep.

 _Oh did I have a few choice words for him._ Hiding behind an obnoxiously girly, saccharinely sweet giggle that most definitely walked a fine line towards being maniacal, one of my hands went to rest on the Doctor's shoulder, my nails secretly digging into his skin to convey a warning.

The satisfaction was great as the Doctor seemed to bite down on the inside of his mouth, wincing as he turned to me with a pained smile. "Angelie, say hello, my dear."

With my lips pursed, I looked to the man and played off a smiley _"Bonsoir."_

The man nodded slowly, the slight look of it telling me he didn't see me as a threat. Hell, I could've had a loaded weapon hidden in the ruffles of my dress and he would think he'd done a superb job at dismissing me with a glance.

Then, standing to his full height, the man began tugging open the large, creaky door to what looked like complete and utter darkness.

"Of course," He said, finally, motioning to the new entrance. "It's through here. Enjoy your night."

With a fair amount of trepidation, I walked alongside the Doctor, straight into pitch darkness. I clutched at his arm the second the door closed behind us, eliminating our only visible out.

"Warn me the next time you want to typecast me. Also know that, if we get arrested, you'll be taking the blame," I barked at the Doctor for the abrupt improv – nothing I felt bad for, due to his surge of suppressed chuckles. I shrugged then, realising the adrenaline still kicking through my veins. "What they say is right though, there's nothing like a nerve-wracking lie to get you in the mood for an underground rave."

"Courage is grace under pressure," The Doctor replied, an airy smile in his voice as he began moving us straight ahead. _Yeah, speaking of his flawless impersonation of a certain writer._

I batted his arm lightly, "Stuff it, Ernest. The real Hemingway must be rolling in his grave."

"Don't be too cynical," the Time-lord said slyly, as if he could see me in the dark. "If we're lucky, we might just run into him."

Har-har, his obvious foreshadowing was far too obvious – though I'd be telling the lie of the century if I didn't hope and pray for his words to come true. It wasn't everyday you got to meet a forever hopeful, cynical genius like the writer, but considering that my travelling partner carried a similar likeness; I feared the meeting would lose some of its uniqueness. I suppose that made me lucky in some way – having the constant company an ingenious lunatic.

Speaking of the Doctor's madness, it was currently absurd that he had full confidence in his navigation to steer us around in this dark. I would've asked how he moved without the fear of stubbing his toe, but I don't know if I could handle the knowledge that he had nocturnal powers he'd been keeping secret.

It was only until a faint noise grew closer, the slight sparkle of light in the shape of the edges of a single door making itself clear to us, did I know I was in for something.

Like moths drawn to the first flame they had ever seen, we were pulled into the light – child-like curiosity settling in me, a glee that told me I would be impressed by whatever sat behind that door. The Doctor was less innocent about it, standing as if he had stepped through a billion similar doorways, his posture set like nothing he saw would affect him too greatly. I was hoping, that at some point, I could see that look washed away – to see him looking at the world like there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

As the Doctor slid open the surprisingly heavy door, I realised all too late that it was sound-proofed, and for good reason too. Music and crystal light let me experience what it was like to be momentarily deafened and blinded for the first time ever – my senses needing to adjust to the sight before me.

 _And god, was it a sight._

It was an accumulation of velvet, lace, gold champagne, diamonds and what other luxuries I'd never gotten close enough to to describe.

In a room huger than life, close to what could have been a group of over five hundred people crowded the floors. Their shiny gowns and sleek suits glinted under massive twinkling chandeliers, hung from the ceiling like the sun; hurting your eyes the longer you looked at them. The crystal lights bounced around the golden cream room, a sudden sharp clarity from the haziness of the street outside.

There was a jazz band going off in full swing. Strings and sax gave the room a second life, rhythmic and so very alive. And just like the authentic human snapshot, the music was amusingly flawed, the occasional mis-twang being the probable result of an overabundance of booze and wine. That would also be the source of the heady, earthy scent of grape that scented the air.

Over the hum of music, a constant, hazy chatter could be heard. I couldn't make out any of their words, but laughter rang in my ears and wouldn't seem to stop. The crowd looked jubilant, singing the songs that belonged to the inebriated and joyful. Any old stranger from my time would think they were celebrating, but it boggled me to think that this excitement was a constant state that they just always lived in. The sight looked like it would stay this way long into the night, everyone dancing like they'd forgotten how to stand still.

I breathed in the air, my eyes drinking in the new room like it was the only supply of oxygen left in a dirtied world.

The stuff of legend indeed.

"Okay, I take it back," I said, gulping. "This might just have been worth that tiny lie."

"Really?" The Doctor shot back in surprise, positively thrilled. "I must say, I'm beginning to seem like a terrible influence on you."

I shuddered at the thought of that, and no amount of rolling my eyes could convince me that I was making an exception just this once. 'Bad influence' was an understatement too, if you knew that a week ago, I thought the most exciting thing to happen was that I'd created a sandwich with a perfect ratio of peanut butter to jelly. At this rate, I'd be a committed felon at the end of the week.

Who knows, perhaps an expanding desire to live excitingly was a good thing.

"I think I'm starting to mind less," I concluded with a secretive smile, nearly tripping the Doctor as I pulled him along into the commotion.

* * *

Walking alongside people who were well and truly dead by the time I was born was an odd experience to say the least. It was unlike Shakespeare at all levels – because now, instead of glossing over the small realisms, I noticed them entirely.

Men, Women, and surprising variations for the time, all rubbed shoulders as they walked, not minding that their toes were being trodden on or that they were in closer proximity to these strangers than they usually were to their own family.

The atmosphere was one of elation, the warm summer air occasionally punctuated by whoops and hollers. Laughs of the dead – the thought gave me the heebie jeebies.

It was partly eerie, but the creepy nature of it was beginning to wear off the more I felt a part of the big picture.

I found myself, considering those thoughts at the edge of the establishments bar, watching the crowded dance floor that set the floor a good twenty paces away. Many of the people I sat watching were dressed to the nines in pure gold, the money practically dripping off of them – an extraordinary sight, since I'm sure that most of these people were acclaimed models, singers and actors.

The whole thing was only that more baffling when I realised how incredibly hammered they were, truly drunker than those you'd find on New Years and St. Paddy's day put together, hanging off each other and tripping over themselves in a wonderful display. It made me wonder whether the concept of bad publicity even existed. Or maybe that's why this event was so exclusive – as if it was the only time they could be this way without judgement from their audiences.

I took out my phone, flipping it around in my hand and debating if I should. Imagining that the opportunity would literally never come again, I held it up and snapshotted what very well could have been the first fully coloured picture of the 20's in all its glory.

I chuckled to myself when I compared the digital thing to the actual sight. The dancers could never be captured by a simple photograph; any snapshot in time could never be enough to capture what their moving forms conveyed. They were joy and laughter, love and grace, emotions given a physical form. They were honesty, clad in bright silk. And I was glad to see it for what it was.

"Might want to hide that out of sight – the common masses will accuse you of witchcraft. Or am I off by a few centuries?" The Doctor's voice flittered in from behind me, to which I found he had returned with two crystalline glasses in hand and a puzzled expression. "What were you doing?"

"Nothing much, just making a memento of all these historical babes," I said with a grin, waggling my phone at him.

He laughed, motioning his full hands to me. "Care for a drink?"

The sight of the glass he held to me caused a pit to form in my gut for the strangest reason, an instinctual feeling telling me I just wasn't apt for alcohol. I shook my head at him, pulling a face that undoubtedly creased my make-up. "Yeah, I think maybe not."

"I thought so," He said smugly, positing the drink in front of me anyway. "That's why this is just grape juice."

I raised my eyebrows, wordlessly commending him.

"Doctor, you know me so well," I said breezily, taking a sip and wondering why a place like this would even serve juice. It looked like everyone came here exclusively to let loose.

Regarding that topic, my mind sparked to a certain thought I'd been mulling over to ask of the Doctor.

"There's been a question on my mind, Doc. I was wondering if you knew..." I started, "When I showed up – why exactly did I pass out? I thought I was getting better at the whole 'jumping' bit – to where I could land at least semi-coherently. I thought about it for a bit and realised that I'd had a bit to drink before this. Could that have been it?"

The Doctor skewed his eyebrows up in sudden thought. "Oh- yes, well I was curious too – some time ago that is. Let's just say that repeated mistakes were enough to tell me that the less coherent your mind is – well, it all leads to less control over where you're going. It can be quite dangerous." He explained grimly. Noting my blank expression, he apprehensively went on to add. "Is that a problem?"

"Game-changer," I started, my voice thick with emotion. "I'll never be able to live my dream of becoming a high-functioning alcoholic. How am I supposed to deal with life's struggles now?"

The Doctor snorted while I bit down on a smile. It was funny to see him like that – creases of amusement in his face where you'd look at him and think he was too dignified to do such a thing. What he said did hold some weight too, especially since I wouldn't want to see myself drink down a whole shelf of liquor in the good name of experimenting, only to find myself teleporting into an active volcano. It gave me added pause to stay away from the stuff that coated the air around me so thick.

"Still, drinking at a party until you black-out is not the only thing humans tend to do for fun," The Time-Lord said amusedly. "Would be quite a sickly way to live if it was."

I made an 'oh really' face. "In the 20's? What else is there to do other than get drunk off your ass and go home with a millionaire that just so happened to be your former boyfriend, only to realise that you harbour secret feelings of love for him, despite the fact that you're married to an asshole you'd rather be with for the stability he provides?"

The Doctor nodded along like he knew of my Gatsby struggles far too well, only making me hope that someday, we could sit down and have countless debates over literature. This version of him made me think he'd enjoy that, perhaps a tiny bit more than his energetic selves in the future.

He adopted a pastel look, hazy and innocent under the lights. He looked towards the crowded floor behind us, and then back towards me. "We could always dance?"

My hand, with clumsy fingers wrapped around the thin crystal of my glass momentarily lost feeling. I partially had to stop myself from spilling my drink, my eyes darting towards him in question. Despite the dumbbell of 'obviously this was going to happen' that had hit me in the head, I genuinely wondered why I didn't expect him to ever offer. I don't know if I even _wanted_ him to have offered.

Dumbly, my voice was a dazed lilt as I rephrased what I thought I heard. "You want to dance? With me?"

He rolled his eyes easily, his present smile a reflection of what he really felt.

"I do believe that's why I asked," He said simply, a subtle, subtle hint of patience in his tone that made me feel the ease I had when we were just talking. Like he had just forced all the noise away and all that remained was us and a pool full of mutual interest we had for the other.

"I- I don't really know how to swing," I tried in a small, retreating voice. "Or how to dance at all, to be honest."

 _God help me._

My old nerves had come crawling back. The same ones of a socially awkward kid with her nose in a book and her back to a corner. No one ever asked that girl to dance, and somehow, she knew no one ever would. A person would just get used to that way of life. You'd find ways to be happy without someone to dance with, and soon, life would be okay again.

But what would you do if, without warning whatsoever, someone tried breaking that?

The Doctor nodded after a break, his eyes lowering to look at his hands for a beat. I didn't know what that meant completely, but I felt like he was pushing something behind – locking up an emotion that had rebelliously tried to make itself shown. Not in a way that was sad, but secretive.

He then looked back to the dance floor and the swaying bodies with a shift. A pained look as he grimaced funnily. "I suppose it does look a bit violent."

My brain flashed to an image of what could have happened if I could rewind a good five minutes and blindly say yes. It would be a perfect, fairy-tale, sappy image – but I couldn't imagine myself in that position. A blank face, dancing along the Doctor. Mine just didn't fit on that body. It should be Rose or River or _anybody_ with half the purpose to be there.

I had thought the purpose of an adventure would have been to fight the bad guys, run from monsters, and save the day. I had never imagined moments like this.

Ah I needed to fix this. I had turned trying to avoid a cliché into a straight up rejection.

Softly, I peered up at the Doctor.

"Want to go bag some free food from the servers? Other knick-knacks too? We could make it a game while we're at it." The spark of a playful proposition had been set, I didn't know now, whether he'd stop it out or set it alight. I grinned as an idea hit me. "Loser has to arrange each book in the TARDIS' library to alphabetical order."

His eyes cleared, a moment passing before he returned the grin growing on my face. "I've been meaning to get started on that. The old girl absolutely refuses to do it for me." He then leaned forward, a look of challenge encroaching. "I accept your challenge, Fiona Moore. But are you sure? The TARDIS is endless, and all the books she owns equal over 600 trips from the earth to the moon. I reckon that's a bit too long for your lifetime."

I felt a little bit of my soul leave me, my mouth agape as I quickly regretted everything. I reassessed myself. " _Okay..._ I might try rephrasing that," I squeaked as he grew quickly amused. "Loser _starts_ that process. Also, to sweeten the pot, if I win, I get your sonic for a day."

"That's not sweet at all. Not for me," He grumbled.

"Yeah, as it should be," I retaliated with the facade of a parent lecturing their kid on what they went through 'back in the day'. "You've already got time and space and a billion years to live at your disposal. You don't ever need to know the struggle of paying bills or taking out the trash or working for rent – so sit your privileged ass down for this rodeo."

He tried to find a comeback, I could tell from the way he squinted, wracking his head for a point against that – but ultimately failing. "Fine then. You're on."

I grinned, ecstatic. "The game is on then. Let's re-group in 15 minutes – if you're late you lose by default. _Good luck."_

And like that, I chugged down the remainder of my drink and took off. The Doctor did the same in the opposite way – making quite the image. Despite his regal, completely professional appearance, he just as easily looked like a 12 year old with the way he raced past people.

Still, I wouldn't let the sight of him be a distraction – after all, I needed my eyes to find precious loot.

* * *

The next 15 minutes were a messy riot. But a fun riot nevertheless.

I found myself hurriedly excavating nooks and crannies and places I didn't expect to find myself. I first found the fine dining section of the place, where I snuck past some of the servers and borrowed some of the silverware, as well as a fancy napkin that had been expertly folded into a swan. Speaking of food, I had bumped into a man with a plate full of hors d'oeuvres, telling him with great urgency that my friend was dying of hunger and needed the whole thing. I also found tons of little soaps in the women's bathroom, as well as countless bits and bobs of rhinestones and small pearls that had accumulated into party debris on the floor.

I triumphantly made my way back to where we'd started, with nothing less than a whole minute to spare and arms full of my winnings.

I looked up and tried to find the Doctor's familiar face from the crowd, my smirk widening as time got closer to the end mark. It was to my grave disappointment however, when I felt a tap on my shoulder and saw him behind the counter of the bar, all bright-eyed and suave.

"What can I get for you, Mademoiselle?" He said with a Parisian lilt to his accent, cleaning down a glass with cloth.

I snorted. "You better get out from there before good old Ruben forcefully ejects you," I warned him, thinking back to the muscular bartender who had been serving out drinks before.

"Nonsense. He left me in charge of the booth while he went off on break. But that's trivial," The time-lord explained away, before his gaze turned precise and playful. "Hands out," He said conspiratorially, making me feel again like a pirate that had just claimed a share of some secret treasure.

I emptied my hands of the possessions onto the counter. "Gaze upon my loot and feel spiteful, unending jealousy."

"Impressive, I have to admit," He said with an appreciative quality to his voice, but like it was nothing too special. I was astounded to hear why when he added, "I just so have happened to find something far better than all this."

I rubbed my hands together like an evil house-fly. The Doctor had empty arms and flats pockets, so I truly doubted what he could procure now. "Oh, I'm looking forward to this," I muttered.

" _The gift of knowledge_ ," He said grandly. Where he looked like he thought I'd pull a face of utter defeat, I broke out in a gleeful bounce.

"So I win! Neato. Way easier than I thought that'd be," I beamed, feeling my stomach rumble. I grabbed at the food from my stash, contemplating as I ate. "Imagine all the chaos I'll get to create with that screwdriver of yours. Well, truthfully I can't imagine much to do, but who knows, maybe I'll figure out a way for it to finally work on wood."

The Doctor held out a hand, entirely unperturbed by his obvious loss. "Hold onto your extremely presumptuous horse, Madam. At least listen to what I have to say. You might just think differently of who's the true winner."

I looked at him up and down, silently considering. "Alright... Shoot."

He grinned at the chance, lowering himself onto folded arms as he built a secretive little box around us. Despite the blaring sound of music, the Doctor's voice isolated us in the small space he created.

"Aren't you curious why the going-on's of tonight are so obfuscated in your future? The 20's were a time where a dozen buildings across the country could have hosted a party like this – with a fair number of them having been written about in daily columns'. I did tell you something made _this_ event special," The Doctor said with the wide, mesmerising eyes of wisened story-teller. "I just so happened to have found out why."

I gave him a dry look. "So you were using tonight as a ploy to investigate, huh?"

"It was 25% of a priority," He tried, wincing. "And for good reason. It's the people. Haven't you noticed the numbers slimming? Faces disappearing from the overarching mass."

I looked around us and did in fact see the smaller crowd that made up the room. The room no longer looked like it could barely hold us – no more toes to be stepped on. When did that happen?

I raised an eyebrow, seriously hit by the difference. Still, I tried to reason with logic. "Haven't they just gone home? I'm sure that non-existent sobrieties can force people to be safe at times."

"What group of over a 100 people disappears all at once?" He said with a thrum of truth to his words. When I didn't – or more or less _couldn't_ respond, he snapped, aware that he'd drawn me in. _"Now you're curious."_

"Sounds like a conspiracy," I hummed lightly. "I still win though."

It was then that he elevated slightly, like someone had directly pumped a gallon of air straight to his head. "Oh! I also forget to mention," He dug around in his pockets. "I did, just to happen, to have gotten these small trinkets–" And like that, from what I thought were empty pockets, he pulled out a gold watch, platinum cuff-links, and with the cherry on the icing being a ring with a fat diamond set in it.

 _His pockets were bigger on the inside, the damned trickster._

"–and, last but certainly not least, charmed a lovely older woman into giving me this," He pronounced, holding out a stoned necklace, grander than the freakin' heart of the ocean. He shrugged. "It's very expensive, I know – which is why I've asked the bartender to return it all when he's back. We're no thieves."

He raised a victorious eyebrow. _"Care to bite back on your words?"_

In the midst of my obvious shock, the Doctor was robbed of his ability to savour the fact that he'd won, when a hand shot out from outside the small bubble of our exchange. A short man, _fuming_ at the ears, had a fistful of the Doctor's collar in his hand. He was dressed in a much less fanciful and extravagant way than many of the patrons around us, with globs and swipes of colour adorning areas of his attire. He had black, thinning hair, with what could have been even darker eyes.

He was ranting accusatory words at the Doctor with the speed of a race-horse; a thick coat of what could have been Spanish lacing his accent. It was like watching a tiny volcano trying to pick a fight with a moving river.

" _Pablo!_ My friend!" The Doctor choked, just as jovial despite the fact he was being confronted by a source of pure rage. The Doctor turned to meet eyes with me and my stunned expression, "Artists in France are always this confrontational."

So that's Pablo Picasso, I awed.

It was odd seeing the face behind the art, as much as it probably was for any artist. Unlike authors, they didn't get their faces highlighted in many portraits and pictures unless they made one of themselves. I, like anyone, knew this dude's historical work, but the impression he was making now made it hard to appreciate him.

"He must be on his blue period," I muttered to myself, put off by how he was unrelenting in whatever he was cross with the Time-Lord over. I did remember Eight say that he heard of this place from the artist in front of us, but clearly, he'd chose to leave out some details of the encounter. "Doctor, why's he shouting at you?"

"Oh, upset I convinced one of his mistresses to leave him. She was far too young to be chained down to this moody little genius. She's living a far better life in the South of France," The Doctor said back tritely, pushing the man back by his shoulders, as if he were patiently waiting for him to tire himself out.

I did remember once reading that he did have a long train of ladies, and that the number of them wasn't apparently something that kept him away from collecting new _'muses.'_ I suppose I could commend the Doctor on helping one of them get away.

I watched the Doctor try and handle the artist as calmly as possible, amused by the eccentric man but obviously trying not to offend him. It was very endearing of him, I knew – just as much as what I'd imagine Nine do if he were in this situation. Probably just tell the guy to 'bugger off'. Insult his nose too, while he was at it.

Even as I was being thoroughly fascinated by the debacle going on before my eyes, my sense of hearing was pulled behind me when I heard a haughty gasp.

" _A fraud?"_ A posh, English accented woman said to her companions from behind me. Her surprise caught my attention kept a sharp ear on their conversation as they spoke.

" _Yeah,"_ another voice, American, replied to her gossipy accusation with annoyance. _"Some bozo's walking around callin' himself Hemingway. Just to get a few free drinks, can you believe it?"_

" _Well, someone oughtta' catch the freeloader. This ain't no place for common folk,"_ Another gruffer, Texan accented man said. _"As a matter of fact, I think I just saw them penguin-suits rushing around looking for 'im."_

 _Oh shit._

That was us. There were people _looking_ for us.

Like my body was possessed by the soul of escapee criminal, I stiffly stepped up towards the Doctor who was now chatting with the Artist. His temperature seemed to have deflated from boiling hot to just sizzling after the Timelord had bought him a drink.

" _RED ALERT, MISSION ABORT,"_ I whisper yelled, tugging at the Doctor's sleeve and drawing his attention. "I don't think your disguise held up. _They're looking for us_."

As the Doctor's eyes lowered to meet mine confidentially, seemingly absorbing what I had said – they were just as quick to snap up when a gruff yell rang out, disturbing the jolly mood in the room.

There, from an uncomfortably close few feet, stood the man from outside – his dark, dirty attire contrasting with the pristine white diamond surrounding him.

He was pointing at us with a posse of similarly dressed men behind him, tall and imposing. All of them were looking right at us.

My attention was snapped from them when the Doctor grabbed my hand. I couldn't help the way my heart nearly skipped a beat, nor the sudden rush of déjà vu that hit me, when he looked at me despite the danger, simply saying one word.

" _Run."_

Hand-in-hand, as if we were scared of having the other fall back and be left behind, we ran like our lives depended on it. In hindsight, the matter wasn't much more than the threat of being tossed outside into the dumpsters and not getting to savour the night – but it still felt as though it was necessary.

We moved past a swarm of bowtie-cladded servers, past two comical swinging doors and into a steaming kitchen. Though it smelled like the place I wanted to be, we had to find a quick way out. Surprised men in tall, white hats were moving in and out through a service door in the back, and due to the lack of anywhere else to go, we ducked past many of the distraught chefs.

The door led us into a narrow hallway with burgundy walls, a few doors and winding paths present on either side. I imagined these corridors were reserved for the staff, making it perfect to escape down. In actuality, I wouldn't be surprised if some of these rooms were booked for rich members of the elite to go gamble and do whatever explicit thing a large amount of money allowed.

We ran and ran and ran, until we found a large loading area with many wooden boxes and crates, seemingly full of supplies for the kitchen.

We weaselled past some of the load, unseen; crashing in a blind-spot behind what was probably a dozen barrels of untapped wine, if the smell was any much of an indicator. We slid to the ground, shoulder-to-shoulder in the cramped space, gasping, inhaling huge amounts of air while. We were well-hidden, but to be safer than sorry, I tried to keep silent by placing a hand over my nose and mouth to veil noise.

I bit down on my lip when the angry voices grew clearer, approaching us. I met eyes with the Doctor who held a finger across his lips, like no shit. I wasn't too much in the mood to go perform Aladdin's opening number to them.

" _We've lost them,"_ A voice grunted angrily, breathing just as frantic but with an underlying tone of impending violence.

Two more voices agreed with him in the same tone, but those seemed so pale in comparison to the next voice that joined the fray – completely steady and without a trace of fatigue, American and sounding as if it created honey just by the drawl of it.

In a more dignified manner, a man tutted.

" _Come now, gentlemen. What merit do you have to your names if you give up without so much of a fight?"_

And with the clicking of heavy boots, the man's steps were the first to veer away from us, continuing down the hallway, soon being met with the annoyed grunts of his friends that eventually followed after him.

Once I could swear on my soul that they were all well and truly gone, I let my hand fall, my eyes slowly turning to shoot the Doctor a glare scarier than death itself.

"Do you ever–" I bit, " _Ever_ , choose to go somewhere without looking for trouble?"

He chuckled despite the situation, looking to me like he was ready to take a nap, "I don't go looking for trouble, darling, but I do often enjoy befriending it."

I shook my head, a pained sound rumbling from my throat, to which he made an unperturbed noise. "Come on; don't be like that. Committing a felony together may just turn out to be a good bonding experience, or at the very least a cautionary tale."

I narrowed my eyes at him, sawdust from the dank air coating my throat. "Yeah well, call me crazy, but I'm getting the distinct feeling that we're not really welcome here anymore," I looked at him challengingly. "How do you hope to salvage that, Casanova?"

When he didn't respond, I sighed contritely. _"Maybe we should just leave?"_

He was quick to object. "Nonsense, there's fun in the chase, after all. And I promised you. We don't leave until we have the experience of a human's lifetime." He grinned at me, and like he had extraterrestrial abilities, it was enough to get rid of all the bad feels. His shoulders bunched as he leaned in to speak conspiratorially, "Now then, do you remember our conspiracy? Are you willing to sniff around in search of our supposedly missing party-goers?"

Despite it all, my upper lip tickled until a small smile broke. I couldn't deny how he was able to spark my curiosity – like tossing a match to tinder. What had I been expecting when it came to him?

"Why not? Maybe we'll run into Arthur Conan Doyle and your sleuthing fantasy will finally come full circle," I grinned at him. "Lead the way, Sherlock."

* * *

My heart trembled on many an occasion as we crept along the hallways. There was an impending sense of danger that came with basically being a fugitive – feeling much like a stowaway on some acclaimed ship. I guess I could relate it to feeling like Chihiro as she snuck around the Bath-house – lost in an alien world, trying to figure out where you could possibly go, but knowing you didn't belong.

Except I wasn't alone, and the fear didn't strike all too deep. The Doctor was with me, having pulled out his sonic to find the way. He was pointing it towards the walls, going down the passageways where the beeping was its most intense.

We scaled past countless doors, none of which were open, and the dealings of which were left alone. I swear there were instances where I could hear _something_ – faint hums of a different type of music than that in the main hall – echoes of laughter from inside the walls. I whispered that to the Doctor, asking why we couldn't just examine the doors we were passing. He told me that a gut instinct was telling him not to – and that wherever the sonic buzz was taking us would be the answer.

It went on until, out of nowhere, the hum _blared_.

It was outside one of the many doors, seemingly ordinary – too easy to forget what it looked like unless you knew what you were looking for. I thought it was a trick of the light, but narrowing my eyes enlightened me of a small oddity.

Nail marks, in the wall. Crescent chippings in the wooden doorframe.

"Oh god," I muttered. _Had we walked straight into some horror movies set?_

The Doctor and I shared a look, before his hand wrapped around the handle.

We walked into a large, dimly lit room. What had been an electric air, buzzing with life in the main area outside had been replaced with what felt stagnant, dead. It was a huge room for starts, with the ceiling doubled into the length of two floors – a single muted yellow chandelier hanging from the top. There were furniture pieces scattered around in random assortments, like they'd just been abandoned there under dusty white sheets. The oldness of the room radiated from the musty smell – flecks of falling dust illuminated by the light.

What stood out from all the oldness however, was a huge mirror.

I was no mathematician, but this easily could have been a 10 by 10 foot structure, just leaning against the opposite wall at the end of the room. I watched us walk in through its reflection.

"Forgotten. Seemingly..." The Doctor said, his voice the only noise in the space. And yet, not the only. It was an eerie sense in the room – like every time the typically louder noise; foot scuffs, heel clicks, voices, when they began to disappear – that's when you could almost hear yourself breathing, and after that, a faint continuous thud. Your own heartbeat thrumming in your ears. It must have been worse for the Doctor.

"Ew," I squirmed. "I for one, don't appreciate this room. Why'd the sonic bring us here?"

"Not too sure," The Doctor frowned, reminding me of a less sociopathic Sherlock Holmes. He brushed his fingers along the furniture, investigating every nook and cranny. It was an amusing sight I really could have used – the perfect relief from the atmosphere surrounding us. He quietly sighed. "The sonic couldn't have lied or misread. It's been tracing the frequency of electromagnetic waves, those attached to the missing people. When we were on separate paths, I talked to some of their friends, picking up traces that they left behind. It should have been enough to find them."

I made a suspicious noise. "I don't think anything alive's been moving here in a long while."

The Doctor clicked his tongue, coming to a still.

"A misunderstanding then," He said in an odd way. It was like fifty percent of him was a bit put out that nothing had happened, yet the other fifty was still hopeful that by just admitting those words, _something_ would happen.

He easily turned and walked to the door, prompting me to follow him. I shrugged, turning my back to the mirror and towards the exit.

 _"Who are you?"_ A voice whispered. From behind us.

The empty space behind us.

We turned and found a blonde man, tall and dressed like the wait staff we'd seen outside.

The room had been empty, but there he stood, looking just as alarmed as we did.

While I was silently freaking out, the Doctor smiled easily. He bounded up past me exuberantly, grabbing the man by the hand and shaking it jovially.

 _How on Earth how could he have been playing this cool?_ That dude had just spawned out of thin air!

I was beyond spooked. I'm sure I looked it too when, straight-faced, like he'd never smiled a single smile nor frowned in his life – the man repeated his initial question.

"Who are you?" He questioned, betraying no surprise, no anger. Shouldn't he be trying to take us to jail for impersonation right now?

The Doctor laughed airily, and that's when I smelt a plan he was brewing. He was acting along, like nothing was wrong in the slightest. He grinned at the man. "Ernest M. Hemingway, my friend. We heard the area back here is–" He leaned in, "– _exclusive?_ "

The man paused at that completely, like a computer stalling. Stiltedly he turned his body towards me. In the same tone, he asked, "Who are you?"

My nervous eyes went straight to the Doctor, wordlessly asking. Almost as if he was saying the words to me, I could tell from his urgent eyes what I was supposed to do.

 _Don't get involved –_ he seemed to be lecturing me. I wanted to glare at him for putting himself in the tricky position. If something bad was going to go down, I didn't want either one of us to take the blunt end of it.

" _No one,"_ I grit out, hiding a small shudder and trying to smile easily, like the Doctor. "I'm no one. He pulled me off the street."

Convinced I was some street urchin, the blonde man's beady, dark eyes turned back towards the Doctor.

"Excellent. We've been expecting your arrival," He said with a new expression. A split-faced grin.

And the air was alight with a sudden mechanical whirring.

Horrible cracking whirring noises, where I couldn't tell if it sounded like bones cracking or engines coming to life. The source was clear – yet so out of place where I didn't know if I could believe what I was looking at.

A thin line began to drip from the man's forehead, dark enough that I thought it was blood for a second. But it was too thin – it was, instead, a single black line. Cutting down the middle of his entire body, clothes and all.

Like I was watching a parasite crawl out of its host, a mass – a solid, hideous _mass_ , began to push out of the man. I couldn't tell if he was a dead corpse of someone once living or a robot, but the two halves he had turned into were now drooping toward the floor like a half-zipped open bag from the dry cleaners. A gooey creature, the colour of burnt flesh, was wriggling in the place of the man's head, human shoulders intact.

I gasped at the hideous imitation of something half-way human, almost wanting to vomit at the sight of the fleshy monster. But a sudden thrum of something more than fear had hit me.

With its still human hand, it grabbed onto the Doctor by his neck, lifting him in the air like he weighed nothing at all. I heard him choke, my feet wasting no time as they summoned the courage to go and free him.

I rushed towards them, anger and panic swelling through every thought I possessed.

But I was stopped.

Two, and then four, arms, human arms – they were holding me back.

 _No. Let me go! They were too strong. But the Doctor–_

I could only watch in horror and the creature swiftly moved backwards.

 _Into the mirror – like it was a veil, an invisible doorway._ The Doctor was still in its deathlike vice.

" _Doctor!"_ I wailed, every inch of me flooding my words – a desperate, panicked-fuelled call. As if that would get him back.

I thought he would scream, say something witty and cutting to the creature – even the slightest threat in retaliation. I thought he would pull out his sonic and think of something clever to do with it to, free himself – zap it at the monster, for all I know. I thought he would at least try and turn to meet my eyes, to convey another silent message, a solution on how to fix all this.

But he didn't. The back of his head was the last part of him I saw before they were gone, and the mirror was just a mirror again.

I was trapped here. Without the Doctor.

The hands on my body were still there, pulling me back. A sudden burst of fury hit me when I saw that it was none other than those annoying guards we thought we had outrun. It was their fault I couldn't have helped the Doctor.

" _Get your mitts off of me!"_ I hissed at them, pissed off with how they were trying to corral me. Still, you could've said they were wise, since there was a strong 75% chance I'd try scratching their eyes out if I had full use of my hands.

A voice unlike the others spoke up calmly. The same voice that had stuck out before.

" _Messieurs_ _, do let go of the young miss, I doubt she had much of role in this."_

I grunted as I was dropped to the floor, looking up to see who the voice belonged to.

Tall, unkempt hair, sharp eyes, and a general look that he simultaneously gave no shits about anything, while still holding a love for most things.

I had written a paper on this man for my English thesis, back in senior year. I probably knew more things about him than some of the many women he had drooling at his feet. Enough to know he liked his Martinis dry, his Mojitos sweet, and was rumored to be drinking a quart of whiskey a day, later in his life.

It was no imposter, but the bona fide original.

" _Ernest Miller Hemingway, at your service, ma'am,"_ He said to me, a slight glint of amusement in his gaze.

He lowered himself onto his knee, coming eye level to where I was on the ground.

" _I've been hearing the funniest things from my friends outside. They say that you've been trying to steal my identity."_

I grimaced, my head baking under all this turmoil. And here I thought the 20's were supposed to be footloose and fancy-free.

* * *

 **Ok, so I might have been listening to the new P!ATD album too much, and as a result, may have gotten carried away with the whole 1920's premise. _Sue me._**

 **Welcome back, it's been a minute and a couple months wow. I'm truly sorry for abandoning ya'll for all this time. Thank you to all the ppl that wished me well on my exams, they went great! Which for me is almost passing, which is also good. I've been a slow writer lately for a plentitude of reasons, mainly because I had to focus on getting better at interests other than writing – mostly stuff that will probably get me money in the long run, since, even though there's nothing more fun than writing fanfiction, it takes up a lot of time and without any green. But, like I said, I'm not abandoning anything anytime soon.**

 **I hope you fools like this original setting, which I hope is as accurate as possible. A combination of reading 'The Great Gatsby' and watching the movie 'Midnight in Paris' fuelled this idea. I'd really recommend watching that if the 20's are your thing – since the general feel of the environment is what I tried describing in this chapter. Also, go on – put on some funky jazz music in the background while you read, since that's what works for me when I write (jk, listen to whatever you want).**

 **I'm sorry it got left off on a cliff-hanger, but 20,000 words was really pushing my sanity, so hold your horses until next time please and thanks ;)**

 **Okie dokie, so I'm gonna answer some reviews now – and wow, there are so many now! Thank you guys. (I might miss some so I'm sorry about that).**

 **Feiticeira Escarlate** – Hey Nicole! Gosh it's been a while! Sorry to hear about your college work – I feel that pain, though it's been a while so I hope schools been easier on you. I'm glad you liked everything in the last chapter, but one big thing is WHAT – i had no idea David Tennent was gonna play Hannibal the Cannibal (I legitimately can't imagine anyone but Mads Mikkelson playing him). Anywho, I also would love to explore there being more than one Doctor in one place (also look out for War Doctor stuff soonish). Until next time!

 **Alikai** – Ugh, my friend, I swear that reviews from you reignite my love for fans of DW – like it's hard to realise how nicely ppl can collectively care about a group of odd characters from episodes that were filmed years ago, yet here we are. I really love your feelings towards the difference between 9 and 10 – like, even I didn't fully understand until your explanation of the transition from 'Soldier' to 'Hero' – which I love, thank you for that. Also, great ideas for the whole predicament in 'Amy's choice' because I 100% have a rough draft of that chapter for the future. I hope you like everything in this chapter so, until the next review, seeya!

 **Sam –** Great to read a review from you again _**dudeeee *surfer dude voice, background guitar riff***_ – I never thought words like 'dude' made me sound American (you're right tho, it must be all the exposure to American tv) – but yeah, i'm a weird mix of an Australian accent and your typical Pakistani/Indian accent (idk if that contributes to language but im guessing). It's nice here I guess, I mean my skin burns off if I go outside without air conditioning, but that's summer for you (I'm more of a rain/winter person, so I should probably just move to the UK and

Anywho, I'm glad you liked that I'm going past 9,10&11, to 8 and I hope this episode was to your liking. I haven't listened to any audiobooks, but like you, I've only seen the mini episode (plus the movie) – so I can't 100% tell the accuracy of his character here.

I don't have a clean plan for any of these chapters, mostly just rough drafts of episodes from the tv show I can imagine in this fic to come later on. I like this method the most since it keeps it fun for me too, or at least it helps with inspiration since it's like a puzzle – where I have all the pre-written ideas I can just slot into place as the story goes on.

 **ChangerOfNames** – Ok I know nothing about you, but wow dude, reading your reviews was like living a fever dream. Thanks for that!

 **QuirkyMurderSubject** – Hi there, thank you for your super long review! (seriously, I'm a rambler so same). Ah, I'm so glad you like the bit of Pakistani representation and the depth I'm trying to make – i was worried when I first started since I felt many readers wouldn't relate, but hey, a good story needs risks. There's not a lot of angst in this episode unfortunately, but I am a ho for petty arguments and bigger issues – there's def going to be more in a bit.

Also, _yes_ , I cannot wait until we enter earlier regenerations and I hope I do them justice, so until then, I do hope you'll keep reading. Seeya!

Also, a big thanks to **Mira12, Faery66, ThatBlueStrawberry, Arkytior's Song** , & .uk – I'm seriously glad that so many new people are taking an interest in this story and actually liking it! Thanks so much you guys!


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